


smile in slow motion

by istajmaal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Fucking, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Panties, Pining, Spanking, shockingly little smut for a sex club au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/pseuds/istajmaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It’s 2011, Niall. People can fuck their friends’ faces without it meaning anything more than that.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>or, Louis is Harry's dom and maybe also his soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smile in slow motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoadedGunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedGunn/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY REN I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. thnx madelaine for the beta, if this makes any sense at all it's thanks to her. if not... oops that's on me.
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : some brief DUBCON/under-negotiated kink at the very beginning, male-female sexual relations (i'm loath to call it "het" when both of the characters are bisexual, but harry eats a woman out, so watch out for that), mentions of pretty much every kink under the sun (focus on the ones in the tags, though), recreational drug and alcohol use, and a truly ridiculous amount of pining. (also, harry is seventeen. just... fyi.)
> 
> disclaimer: nothing is real, this sex club does not exist (YET, but talk to me on [tumblr](http://socomicallygay.tumblr.com/) if you're interested in investing). title is from [foolish love](www.youtube.com/watch?v=BU277VpXewc) by rufus wainwright.

 

Louis knows that he's led something of an adventurous life—you don’t end up at an American-style diner at four in the morning with up-and-coming DJ Zayn Malik without being at least a little hardcore—but he expects Zayn to at least pretend to be surprised when he tells him Nick is taking him to a sex club on Friday.

"What have I ever done to make you think that I'd end up in a sex club?" Louis says. He picks up one of Zayn’s chips and brandishes it almost threateningly.

"How about... every gay guy in your year at uni?" Zayn sounds almost bored, which is not an appropriate tone for talking about Louis’s sex life, even if it has been on the vanilla side. “And then some?”

"Yeah, but we never did anything _freaky_." Louis waves his hand dismissively and steals another chip. “This is super freaky. _I_ can't even believe I'm doing this."

Zayn chews on the end of his straw for a minute and watches Louis dump half of Zayn’s chips onto his own plate without commenting. "I guess, if anything, I'm surprised you're going with Nick." Zayn slurps his milkshake. "How long have you guys even been dating?"

"We're not dating," Louis says for what feels like the fiftieth time in two months. He dabs one of the chips in a mountain of ketchup. “We're just. Having a lot of sex. I barely even like him, apart from his cock."

Zayn closes his eyes and holds up his hand. “Didn’t need to know that."

"What?" Louis grins a little and munches on Zayn’s chip thoughtfully. "I didn't even say anything about it, just that it's a nice cock."

"Really don't need _any_ information about my boss's cock, thanks."

Louis hums. “Now that you mention it, it does curve sort of weirdly far to the right..."

"This." Zayn picks up one of his own chips from Louis’s plate and points it back at him. “This is exactly why I'm not surprised you're going to a sex club. Because boundaries have never meant much of anything to you."

"Nick's just really into the idea of me sucking his dick while people watch." Louis smirks a little at how Zayn flinches every time he mentions his boss’s dick. “And it doesn't seem like you're about to volunteer."

Zayn sighs and pushes the empty milkshake glass into the middle of the table. “Seems a little odd to me that you'd do that for someone you don't even like that much."

Louis sighs. There aren’t a lot of people he likes that much, honestly, but Zayn is one of them, so he’s not going to snap back. “I doubt a lot of loved-up monogamous partners hang out at sex clubs.”

“Well, you’d better keep me updated.” Zayn kicks Louis under the table. “Since you’re probably the reason your boyfriend—“ Louis scrunches up his nose at the word. “—has me pulling a double at his bar Friday, I expect at least one Snap of you in fuzzy handcuffs.”

“Think they’ve got the real deal there, Z.” Louis wiggles his eyebrows knowingly, even though he does not, in fact, have any idea what kind of bondage equipment they keep at Both Directions. “I’ll make sure you get a good view of Nick’s cock, though.”

###

They end up confiscating Louis’s phone at the door, which puts a bit of a damper on the evening. Though, as it turns out, not as much of a damper as Nick bloody Grimshaw.

Things start to go downhill as soon as they get into the club. Louis hovers awkwardly behind Nick as he goes around and greets a few people. A few of them give him a once-over that Louis wouldn’t mind, entirely, if it were followed up by a simple _hello_ or a friendly _first time at a sex club_? A woman wearing a corset gives him a welcoming grin from across the room, but other than that, no one really positively acknowledges his presence. Louis’s not really used to that, especially when he’s wearing braces he _knows_ accentuate his arse. Then again, his arse usually isn’t competing for attention with half a dozen couples having actual sex.

“So am I gonna blow you?” Louis elbows Nick in the gut. “Or are you just gonna watch that guy get wax dripped on his junk?”

“They’re not gonna put it on his _dick_ , idiot.” Nick draws his eyes away from the wax play scene to raise an eyebrow at Louis. “You really don’t know anything about anything, do you?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You want a blowjob or what?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick runs a hand through his hair and glances around the room. “That bench over there, should get us a good audience.”

Louis’s not really a stranger to being on his knees. He gave his first blowjob when he was fourteen, after all, and since then, he’s blown a lot of people in a lot of different places. None of them have involved half a dozen middle-aged men in various states of undress watching him take the guy’s dick out of his pants, though. Nick seems pretty into it—his legs are spread wide and he’s already rock hard—but Louis actually rolls his eyes when he sees one of the older men lick his lips when Louis takes Nick’s cock in his hand. It’s just a blowjob, Jesus. He licks up Nick’s shaft a few times, jerking him off slowly, with his eyes mostly on the semi-circle of men around them. He hopes they don’t think they’re going to come on him. This is a new shirt.

When Louis finally takes the head of Nick’s cock into his mouth, he finally starts to enjoy himself a little. He’s always found giving head to be pretty relaxing. The sensation of being filled up gives him something to focus on other than the fact that he’s at a sex club being ogled by people he's not attracted to at all.

Until, that is, one of the voyeurs speaks up.

"Who's the newbie?"

Louis isn’t particularly into being talked about like he isn’t there. He’s much more comfortable being the center of attention. He pops his head off Nick’s cock quickly to take in a mouthful of air before going down again, taking another inch or so. He’ll probably be up to deepthroating him in a few minutes. That should give them something to talk about, anyway.

"Just some twink," Nick says. "Got a mean cocksucking mouth, though."

Oh, _hell_ no. Nick's hand is hard on the back of his head, but Louis pulls off easily enough. Nick shakes his hand out. Louis hopes he broke his wrist.

"The _twink_ has a name," Louis says. He spits some of his excess saliva and Nick’s precome on the ground. "Not that it's any business of yours." The little crowd around Louis parts enough for him to elbow his way out without taking another look back at Nick’s stupid cock that Louis came all this way to suck only to have the experience ruined by Nick’s stupid mouth.

He really wants to send Zayn some angry text messages right now, maybe send some Snaps of people looking _ridiculous_ in their bondage gear, but his phone is still in the cloakroom. He thinks about leaving then, but when he passes the bar, he figures alcohol might be the second-best way to deal with his annoyance.

“Vodka cranberry,” Louis says to the bartender, “ _please_.” He settles himself down on a barstool and holds his hand out expectantly, the other rubbing his temple.

The bartender, a thin woman with hair light green like a mermaid, raises her eyebrows. “You’re new,” she says, with strained amusement. “We don’t serve alcohol on play nights. Doesn’t contribute to the atmosphere we’re going for.”

“Are you _serious_?” Louis groans and collapses onto the barstool. “And I thought this night couldn’t get any worse.”

“I could get you a lemonade,” the mermaid offers. Her eyes flit around the room. “Or, there’s _probably_ something else around to distract you from your troubles.”

Louis scans the room himself and he’s about ready to comment that he’s not interested in finding any bearded men to call _Daddy_ tonight, when something catches his eye: a mop of curly hair flopping around while the boy it’s attached to stumbles getting to his knees.

The boy looks to be the youngest person in the room other than Louis by at least a decade, but that isn’t what makes Louis stop and stare. It’s that this boy is totally naked, save for a few complicated-looking knots in thick red rope around his torso, but he doesn’t look anything close to embarrassed as he settles on his knees. In fact, if anything, he looks apologetic, peering up at the woman in a black corset and leather miniskirt standing over him with a slight quiver in his lips. He’s got a _magnificent_ cock, Louis thinks, _much_ better than Nick’s, pink and thick and beautifully curving out from his soft hips. The way the rope is digging into his skin a little makes it look like he’s still got a bit of baby fat on him, and Louis wants to bite it.

Curly is a little preoccupied at the moment, though. Before he’s even gotten his balance after his almost-face-plant, the woman in the corset is hitching up her skirt and putting her crotch directly in his face. Curly hunches his shoulders down—like he’s trying to make himself fit _underneath_ her—and as the woman steps forward a little more (she must be _smothering_ him, Louis can’t recall a time he was ever so entranced by the act of eating somebody out), there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder and Louis almost jumps out of his skin.

“I asked who you came with,” the mermaid says. She’s holding a glass out to Louis, which he takes and sips without thinking, winching a little when he realizes there’s no alcohol in it.

“Grimshaw.” Louis’s eyes stay on the boy on his knees. The woman standing over him is lacing her hand through his curls and pushing his head into her crotch in a way that makes Louis’s throat twinge in sympathy.

“The tall one or the cute one?”

“The tall one,” Louis says, even though he’s not sure who she’s talking about. The boy’s hands are visibly twitching in the restraints binding his arms up to the elbow. If the boy’s in any danger of choking, though, he doesn’t seem particularly bothered, given how his cock seems to be standing up even straighter. Louis wants to get his mouth on it. He wouldn’t particularly mind if the woman kept doing what she was doing in the meantime.

“You’re not the first newbie he’s brought,” the mermaid says, even as Louis remains fixated on the way the woman is grinding down on Curly’s face. “Most of them don’t stick around very long.”

The corseted woman takes a step back and Curly takes a few deep breaths. His face is shiny with wetness and he looks dazed, the slightest of smiles curling on his lips and revealing a bit of a dimple. Louis’s in love even before the woman shoves three fingers in his mouth and he sees Curly’s cheeks hollow around them, his eyes fluttering shut gracefully.

“If you’re interested in learning more, though, you’re welcome to keep coming around.” The mermaid touches Louis’s elbow lightly just as the corseted woman pushes Curly back against the mat spread on the floor, and Louis starts at her touch so hard he almost drops his drink, his gaze fixed on the bit of purple plastic sticking out from between the boy’s pert little arse cheeks. “We’re a bit exclusive—for safety, you know—but it’s good for all of us to have some fresh blood every once in a while.”

The corseted woman sits down on Curly’s face, her skirt riding up enough for Louis to see his chin bobbing slightly between her toned thighs. She’s facing the bar, so Louis can see the shivers of pleasure that run over her face perfectly even as she traces the lines of thick rope over Curly’s chest, pausing at his nipples—each of which, Louis notices only now, has a small silver hoop threaded through it. The woman toys with them one by one while she grinds back against Curly’s face, then leans down 

“Fresh blood,” Louis echoes. His throat feels dry. He sets his drink down on the bar.

“Name’s Lou, darling.” The mermaid picks up his drink, even though it’s only half-drunk. “And you are?”

“Louis.” The curly boy’s long, long legs are trembling as the woman plays with the toy in his arse, his magnificent cock twitching untouched against his stomach. Louis prays to every god he can think of that Zayn’s belief that any sufficiently pretty person must be at least a little bit bisexual proves true in this case, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to be sticking around this club until he gets his mouth on that dick. (And maybe that dimple, while he’s at it.)

“Well, you can find me hanging around, if you have any questions, Louis.” Louis’s not even glancing at her anymore, eyes glued to the woman’s fingers dancing teasingly along the curly boy’s shaft without providing any real friction. Louis’s dick twitches. In, like, solidarity, obviously. Fortunately, Lou doesn’t seem too bothered by his inattention. “Most people don’t mind talking once they’ve had a breather after a scene, either,” she adds. She’s gone before Louis garbles some kind of response, fully hard in his pants now as the corseted woman tugs hard on Curly’s main nipples. Her eyes are flitting around the room, taking stock of all the people who have taken notice of them, and she makes eye contact with Louis just as she twists Curly’s nipples almost a full rotation while grinding down hard on his face and Curly comes, cock spasming untouched and shooting thick white come all over the rope on his abdomen.

The woman comes a minute later, rocking back on Curly’s face unabated until her own chest stops heaving, but all Louis can pay attention to is the trembling of the boy’s thighs as he comes down from his high. There’s nothing about a softening cock that should be endearing, but Louis’s own breath has been coming up short for the past several minutes, and he’s almost relieved it’s over. He feels weirdly proud, like he doesn’t just want to give the boy a blowjob, but also maybe a hug and tell him he did a good job.

It looks like that’s exactly what the woman does when she crawls off Curly’s face. He’s flushed and red and his whole face is drenched in her wetness, but that doesn’t stop the woman from planting a kiss on his cheek and whispering in his ear while she goes to work on the ropes binding his body up. Louis watches from his seat at the bar while she cleans him up, wraps a thin blanket around him, and helps him open a juice box. Curly seems a little less dazed, now smiling impossibly widely as he nods along to something the woman is saying.

Louis had felt almost like he was a part of the scene himself, he had gotten so invested in the curly-haired boy, but now he feels incredibly like an unnecessary wall decoration in this room that’s already quite crowded. Still, he refuses to leave without talking to Curly. His opportunity arises twenty minutes later, just when he’s started to think he can’t dawdle on watching men in their forties fist each other up to their elbows any longer. Curly stands up, stretches, and jerks his head towards the bathroom. The older woman nods, standing up herself and giving the boy a long hug before turning to join the small crowd assembled around the fisters.

Louis follows the boy to the loo but hesitates outside for a moment, wondering if someone might get the wrong idea if they find him just loitering in the loo. Then he remembers he’s at a sex club, and people don’t have to hang around the toilets to find someone to blow them. He heads in.

Curly’s dick is in his hand when Louis comes into the toilet. He jumps a little at the sound of the door banging open, and some of his piss ends up on the floor.

"Oops,” the boy says. His eyes dart from Louis to the drops of piss on the ground and he smiles bashfully. He’s just broken around ten rules of urinal etiquette by acknowledging Louis’s existence, and Louis is so, _so_ grateful, because it gives him the courage to just outright say what he’s been thinking.

"Hi.” Louis’s voice wavers a little. The boy looks almost like an _angel_ up close, with his big eyes and dimples and cock, and Louis almost slaps his own face to remind himself that he’s _cool_ , he doesn’t need to be intimidated by angel-boys in bathrooms. “I, uh. I saw you, earlier. That was--you were amazing."

Curly blushes. "I--thank you?" He checks Louis out (quickly, but obviously) while he puts his dick away in his boxers. "You're new."

Louis laughs a little, leaning against the nearest stall door and almost falling into it. _Keep it cool, Tommo_. "Yeah. Is it that obvious?"

"No, I just--" Curly’s eyes wander down Louis's body again, slowly, before he snaps his head back up. "I just haven't seen you around before."

“You come here a lot, then?" Louis’s not sure what that says about him but he’s also not sure what it says that he’s currently chatting a boy who looks like he’s sixteen up in the bathroom of a sex club, so.

"Every week." Harry smiles like that’s something to be proud of, and Louis _is_ proud of him, sort of. It’s probably a symptom of extreme dick thirst. “For the past few months, anyway."

"Really?" Louis eyes over Harry and doesn’t pretend he isn’t sizing up his abs. He’s seen more than that of Harry, already. "You look like you turned sixteen last week."

"'m eighteen." Harry holds out his hand as if to shake, then glances back at the urinal and drops it. "And--Harry, also."

"Nice to meet you, eighteen-and-Harry-also." Louis moves to the sink, as if that’s the reason he came to the loo in the first place, and Harry joins him. "I'm Louis. Nineteen, also."

"Did you come here alone?" Harry asks, in a tone that implies he knows Louis didn’t, while he lathers up his hand. Louis wonders how long Harry had been paying attention to him.

"Nah, came with my--" Louis turns off the faucet, thinks for a minute, then says, "--ex."

Harry nods a little absent-mindedly. “Very open-minded,” he says, shaking the excess water everywhere. He sounds like he’s trying to stay diplomatic, but Louis feels weirdly at ease with him anyway. Probably because he’s so cool.

"He wasn't my ex when we got here,” Louis explains. He keeps wiping his hands on his jeans even though they’re clean. “Got off a little too much on treating me like shit."

Harry frowns. "You should let Lou or Caroline know,” he says, glancing towards the door. "They kick people out for that kind of thing. You know, if the—if you’re not into it.”

“Which ones are they?”

“Caroline was the one who was just with me.” Harry puts a hand to the back of his head and grins a little, like he can’t believe his luck. It’s sort of endearing. Just not as endearing as his thick, swollen lips would be around Louis’s dick. “Lou’s the one with green hair. They’re the ones that own the club.”

“Great,” Louis says, “thanks.” He doesn’t have any intention of turning Nick in as some kind of sexual predator—he’s a jerk, yeah, but Louis’s preferred way of dealing with that is by focusing on the decidedly not-jerky boy in front of him. “So, eighteen-year-old Harry, since you’re a regular… maybe you could meet me for coffee sometime, and tell me more about the scene?”

Louis regrets it as a pick-up line even before it’s left his mouth— _let’s meet up and chat about how that woman just rode your face_ doesn’t seem like the beginning of a great romance—but Harry’s eyes light up. “I’d love to.”

###

 _It’s not a date_ , Harry says to Niall when Harry tells him about the cute kinky boy who asked him to coffee and Niall whoops. _It’s not a date_ , he says to Gemma while she’s teasing him in the car on the way to the coffee shop. ( _It’s a totally platonic chat about my sexual proclivities, which, by the by, include being suffocated by other people’s genitals_ , he doesn’t add.) _It’s not a date_ , he says to himself as he sits at a table by the window, fidgeting with his phone and wondering if he should have worn tighter jeans.

Only… it’s maybe a date. Louis shows up wearing _extremely_ tight jeans. Then he buys Harry his tea (albeit, because the coffee shop he chose doesn’t accept cards, but still). Louis jokes about how they must be soulmates because they’re both the kind of people who order tea at a coffee shop, and even if he’s joking, Harry hasn’t been on a real date since he started spending all his Friday nights being tied up and pushed around by older doms, so he figures he’s allowed to be a bit eager about it. It’s totally a date. 

“How did you…” Louis’s finger trails around the edges of his mug. “How did you end up there?”

“Mum always taught me I could be anything I wanted to be.” Louis chuckles and Harry takes a quick sip of his tea to hide how widely he’s grinning. “Nah, I mean. Same as you, really. Met a guy, he brought me ‘round… and I ended up liking the club more than the guy, so.”

“Guy,” Louis echoes. Almost like a question.

“Yeah.” Harry pauses for a minute. “What, are you surprised?”

Maybe this isn’t a date. Even if Louis is wearing a very tight shirt and smiling an awful lot and is maybe his soulmate. Maybe Louis did those things because he thought Harry was straight and now that it must be obvious how badly Harry wants this to be a date, Louis will freak out and leave.

Louis shrugs. He doesn’t leave, though. “You were with a girl at the club,” he says, with a slight shrug. Like it doesn’t matter to him. Does _that_ mean this isn’t a date?

“Play is one thing.” Harry drums his fingers over his knee. He definitely should have worn tighter jeans. “I mean, I can get on my knees for anyone, and the sex stuff is…” Harry feels Louis’s foot nudge against his for a minute and he jumps a little, but Louis moves away. It’s probably a coincidence. He swallows. “I mean. Being told to do it, is what I get off on.”

“But when it’s of your own free will…?”

Harry bristles. “It’s always of my own free will.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Guys, then.” Harry feels almost like he’s being interviewed for something. He’s hoping it’s the role of soulmate. Louis is confident and funny, his eyes crinkle a little when he laughs, and he has great taste in sex clubs. Harry’s ready to sign over his heart as soon as he knows whether or not Louis’s interested in fucking him up a little.

“You’re really sure of yourself, for a seventeen-year-old.” Louis leans back in his chair and looks over Harry. Harry thinks he’s being appraised, like a work of art. He’s pretty sure he wants Louis to buy him.

“I know what I like,” Harry says simply. Then, after a minute: “Shit, I mean—eighteen, ‘m eighteen.”

Louis shakes his head. “Saw your ID while you were flipping through your wallet.” He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table as he smirks at Harry. “Do they not let under-eighteens into the club?”

“I… don’t know, honestly.” Harry relaxes a little, though he can still feel how red his face is. “I got a fake because I was afraid they’d ask, but nobody has.”

“Well, I won’t tell.” Louis does this sly little sideways smile. He’s flirting. It’s a date. They’re definitely on a date. “Though I’m a little scandalized. When I was seventeen, we got fakes to get into bars. Not sex clubs.”

“Both Directions _is_ a bar,” Harry says petulantly. He wants Louis to think he’s a cool date. “It’s only open for play Tuesdays and Fridays. That leaves five other nights a week to get drunk.”

“And do you get drunk five days a week, Harry?” Louis’s teasing, but his eyes are shimmering.

“Well… no.” Harry holds his mug in two hands and relaxes back into his chair. “I work an early shift at the bakery, before college, most days, so.”

“Responsible.” Louis nods curtly. “So… how’d you—figure it out, like?”

Harry frowns. “The gay thing or the sub thing?”

“The sub thing.” Louis quickly looks down at his outfit in concern. “Do I look like I’m confused about the gay thing? Sexuality crisis chic is so last year.”

Harry laughs so suddenly he spills his tea all over his hand before he calms enough to answer. “I don’t know,” he says, still wheezing a little. “It just… kind of happened?”

“ _What_ just happened?” Louis prompts. “Like, what made you realize?”

“I’ve always been a people-pleaser.” Harry’s thought about this a lot, actually. “And being shoved around, like, has always gotten me hard. So once I figured out that I could have both things at once, right, it just. Clicked.”

Louis looks down at his tea and hums, but doesn’t say anything.

“Sorry.” Harry crosses his legs and bounces his foot up and down. This may be a date, but Louis might also be really interested in learning more about the scene. “That’s probably—sorry I’m not being very helpful.”

Louis looks up from his tea with his brow still furrowed. “Helpful?”

“Yeah, I mean.” Harry thinks for a minute, then gestures to the side vaguely. “Helping out new subs is, like. Important. I just don’t really know anything about anyone except me, I guess.”

Harry’s not actually an expert on the BDSM scene, at all—he’s barely an expert in what he likes himself—but he’s been around enough doms to know that if there’s one thing they can’t stand, it’s being mistaken for subs.

Louis doesn’t wince at all. Instead, he looks over Harry’s shoulder at the counter. “If I get a slice of pie,” he says, “will you help me eat it?”

Harry nods. Louis goes to get his pie. Harry sinks down into his chair and his nipple piercings bristle against his shirt. He sighs. If Louis’s not interested in domming Harry, the chances that they’re soulmates have gone down drastically.

On the other hand, he thinks as Louis comes back with a slice of pie and two forks, the chances that this is a date have gone up drastically. Louis lets out an obscene moan when he takes a bite out of the pie that startles several of the elderly customers around them, and gives Harry a cheeky wink. Harry lets out a similar moan upon tasting the pie, and Louis’s foot nudges his under the table. Louis might not be his soulmate, but he’s almost definitely his date, and for the moment, Harry is extremely happy with that.

###

Louis isn’t sure when he starts wanking off to the idea of sitting on Harry’s face. It just kind of happens.

It’s not like it’s uncommon for him to have fantasies about the people he’s attracted to, and he’s _definitely_ attracted to Harry. But this fantasy is… different. It starts out not with an image of Harry’s lips or hands or cock—even though Louis’s got plenty of those images stored away—but with something more specific: Harry getting on his knees.

Harry has the lips of a cocksucking angel, and an arse that Louis wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know a lot better, but those aren’t what Louis thinks about while he’s pulling one off. He thinks about the way Harry tilted his head up so trustingly when someone positioned themselves over him. The way he got harder and harder while someone used him—his _face_ —as a tool to get off. The way he got so wet and messy and he looked so _pleased_ with himself, so _accomplished_ when it was over. It starts off as a memory, Louis replaying the scene in his head over and over until he thinks he has it memorized, but at some point—he’s not sure when—it’s no longer a corseted woman rubbing her crotch against Harry, it’s Louis rubbing his arse over his face, feeling Harry’s tongue lick in and around him over and over while Louis keeps him there with a hand sunk into his thick curls.

The first four times Louis comes to the idea, he can pass it off as fascination with Harry generally, and the bizarre circumstances of their meeting in particular. But by the time he’s started wondering how long he could ride Harry’s face before he had to let up so Harry could breathe, he figures he might have to actually confront what this fantasy means.

“Have you ever choked anybody during sex?” Louis asks one morning, first thing after Zayn stumbles out of his room.

Zayn blinks at him and rubs his eyes. “I knew moving in with you was a shit plan.”

“Shut up.” Zayn loves Louis and they both know it, but this isn’t the time to discuss that. “Have you?”

“ _No_ , Jesus.” Zayn leans against the doorframe and rubs his hands over his face. “Why, what does Grimshaw want now?”

“Nick and I aren’t together anymore.” Louis hasn’t even thought of Nick in days. He’s barely thought of anyone since Harry dabbed some meringue on his nose to make Louis laugh, and left it there for over half an hour. That’s not information he’s just going to hand over to Zayn willingly, though. “Not that we were ever _together_ , but you can start opening your Snaps again. Any penis you encounter there will not belong to your boss.”

“Like that’s the only reason I avoid your Snaps.”

Louis throws a sock at him. Zayn picks it up and throws it into Louis’s room. “Have you ever wanted to, though?” Louis fiddles with his phone and finds himself opening up a text to Harry absentmindedly before he puts his focus back on Zayn. “Choke somebody.”

Zayn shakes his head. “Not even a little,” he says, and heads off to the bathroom.

Zayn’s a shit liar when he’s just woken up. Louis texts Harry asking to meet him again before Zayn’s even out of the bathroom again.

_L: we’ll see if you can get some pie in that enormous mouth of yours instead of all over your face_

_H: been told I’m pretty good at fitting things in my mouth, actually x_

###

The second time Louis asks Harry to meet him for tea, Harry is simultaneously both more and less sure that it is a date. Louis buys their drinks again, and a slice of lemon meringue pie that he lets Harry eat most of. He’s wearing a loose jumper though, instead of a skintight tee, and also he’s _interested in learning more about subbing._ Which means he and Harry are probably not the most sexually compatible, in spite of Louis’s fucking sinful collarbones and how when their knees bump under the table Harry has to think of the time his cat got run over by a bus to keep himself from getting a boner.

“I’m glad you texted me again.” It feels like maybe a little too honest of a thing to say as soon as it’s out of Harry’s mouth, so he quickly adds, “I mean. You didn’t come this Friday, so I thought I might have scared you off.”

Louis doesn’t seem bothered by the idea that Harry was thinking of him, which is a relief. (Even if he doesn’t know Harry was thinking of Louis manhandling him to his knees and slapping his face. Harry doesn’t have _that_ much of a big mouth.) “You’re not very scary, love.”

Harry relaxes a bit. “I used to have really long nails.” He flexes out his fingers with a threatening raise of his eyebrows, and Louis drops his fork laughing. “When I was a kid. I never cut them until I started… you know.”

 _That’s_ a little more information than Louis probably needs. Just because he wants to talk to Harry again doesn’t mean he wants to think about Harry fingering himself.

“ _Now_ I’m scared,” Louis says, but he still looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Rectal tearing is scary.”

Harry puts his hands on his thighs, like he’s getting ready to stand up. “Should I leave, then?”

Louis kicks Harry under the table lightly. “Not yet.” His foot rests against Harry’s for a second longer than it really needs to. Harry picks up his tea again and smiles down into it. They’re silent for a minute, and Harry’s mind scrambles for something to say.

“Subbing doesn’t have to be scary,” he decides on. He looks up at Louis a little nervously. “Is that why you didn’t come back? I mean—not everybody comes every week, you know, but—“

"I don't think I'm a sub.” Louis puts down his tea and fiddles with the ends of the sleeves of his jumper. "Actually."

"Oh." Harry puts down his tea as well. "That's--I mean. If you're not into it, that's..." Harry’s brain starts working a million miles a second, trying to imagine what vanilla sex with Louis might be like, if he’d be into it. There’s a strong possibility he might. Louis’s a bit smaller than him, but he looks strong, and—Harry hasn’t really had a reason to try getting off thinking about anything not particularly kinky, not since he found the club, but that doesn’t mean he _couldn’t_ , if he tried.

There’s an even stronger possibility that he’s getting _way_ ahead of himself. He frowns down at the table.

“No, I mean!" Louis leans forward and takes a bite of the pie before answering. "I mean, I think I'm more interested in... the other side."

 _Yes_.

Harry actively has to stop himself from pumping his fists. He should have trusted himself. He’d wanted Louis from the moment he set eyes on him in those cheeky braces in the club bathroom. That _had_ to mean he had latent dom tendencies. Harry has a sense for these things. Even as Louis looks at him a bit nervously over his tea, Harry can _feel_ his inner dom flexing its muscles.

“I—okay.” Harry allows himself a short smile at Louis, who relaxes a bit. “I’m not really the best person to talk to about that, though. Except… from my side.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to take the pie away if you don’t give me enough helpful information, Harold.”

“All right.” Harry takes another big bite of the pie and chews it before he continues. “What made you, uh. Change your mind?”

“Didn’t change my mind, more like… clarified something.” Louis taps his fork against his lips and looks thoughtful. “I’ve been with a bunch of guys who liked it rough. I always liked the idea, but when they’d actually get around to it, it was always… boring?”

Harry bites his lip, imagining Louis being manhandled by some of the older guys at the club. It’s not an ugly picture, just… not quite right. “Maybe they were just the wrong guys.”

“Well, _obviously_ ,” Louis says, waving his hand dismissively. Harry grins a bit. “Anyway. Ever since I saw—that is, ever since I went to the club, right, I’ve been thinking about it more, and I think… I might be good at topping. Domming, I mean.”

Harry is inclined to agree. He would probably get on his knees for Louis right here and now, if he asked. (Which he’s not. Because buying somebody pie is not the same as asking them to be your BDSM partner. Harry hasn’t been on a lot of real dates, but he’s pretty sure he’s read that somewhere.)

“You should talk to Lou or Caroline.” He squeezes his eyes shut in remembrance of Dusty the Cat for a moment, then blinks them open. “Like, if you show up early at the club, they’re always around, and they helped me a lot, getting into things. I know they hold classes for new doms, sometimes, with safety stuff.”

“Looks like you earned your slice of helpful pie after all.” Louis takes one last bite and pushes the plate closer to Harry. “Yeah, I’ll come around this week, probably. Just… watch some more, probably.”

“That’s great.” Louis watching him is something Harry could definitely be into. He looks Louis over for a minute, considers what he has to lose, then shrugs and grins. “Maybe you could play with me sometime.”

Louis brings his mug to his lips so Harry can’t tell if he’s smiling or trying not to vomit. “Maybe.”

(He doesn’t vomit. There’s hope for Harry yet.)

###

“Will you stay _still_?”

Zayn does the best he can to hit Louis over the head with his wrists bound. It’s not very successful. Good. “I thought you were supposed to _make_ me stay still.”

“That’s after I get these bloody knots right.” Louis steadies his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and stares at him until he stops fidgeting.

“Seems impractical, if I need to stay still in order for you to be able to make me.”

“Well, maybe once I get _better_ at it…” Louis frowns down at the loose ends of rope and tries to remember where he was before Zayn distracted him. “Besides, ‘m not planning on using this particular skill set on anyone who isn’t eager to stay still for me.”

“Except me.” Zayn shuffles his feet. “Why am I doing this again?”

“Because you love me.” Louis picks up the ends of the rope again. “And because I kept you from sleeping with that straight guy.”

Zayn looks over Louis’s shoulder and lets out a wistful sigh. “Oh, Liam. He had such a nice dick. Why does that mean I owe you?”

“Because we don’t sleep with straight guys, Zayn.” Louis frowns at Zayn and pokes him in the gut. “We made a pact.”

Zayn doubles over for a minute, which makes Louis lose track of where he is _again_. “ _You_ made a pact, after that one arsehole gave you a black eye.”

“Which you tended oh-so-lovingly,” Louis says, smiling through gritted teeth as he pulls the rope a little tighter than he strictly needs to, “and declared _no more sleeping with straight guys_.”

Zayn shrugs as best he can while bound. Again, he’s not very successful. Louis really is getting better at this. “It was a really nice dick,” Zayn says.

“He was there with his fiancee.”

“He could be bi.”

“ _Fiancee_.” Louis tucks the ends of the rope the knot. It doesn’t look very pretty, but Zayn can’t move, so he’s going to consider it a success. “Besides, he had this… look in his eyes. Like he was scared shitless of you.”

“You mean that look you get when that subby boy from the club texts you?”

“His name’s Harry.” Louis tests the tightness of the knots. “And no, that is _not_ what I mean. You know, I think I could also use some practice gagging people.”

“Whatever.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Untie me so I can go find Liam and his dick.”

Louis fondles the rope handcuffs between Zayn’s hands for a moment. “Can I please just try the ankles too? I saw—I mean.”

Zayn’s a good friend to Louis, even while he’s not allowing himself to be tied up so that Louis will be able to impress Caroline with his knots. But Zayn is also a friend who likes to tease, _especially_ on the infrequent occasions Louis finds a guy that he actually might like for more than his dick. Zayn’s already figured out that there’s a direct connection between the stacks of BDSM-themed books currently scattered all over their flat and the teenager Louis’s taken to doodling in the margins of his drama notes. Louis doesn’t need him to know that the reason he’s so insistent on perfecting his bondage technique this week is that last Friday, some music executive visiting from America tied Harry’s ankles to his wrists and had half the club coming on his face while Louis was on the other side of the club accidentally cutting off Lou’s circulation. Louis doesn’t plan on letting that happen again.

“For practice?” Louis smiles sweetly and dangles the rope in front of Zayn like a treat in front of a dog.

Zayn kicks him, then loses his balance a little. Louis steadies him with a hand on his elbow. Zayn sighs. “ _Fine_.” He sits down on the couch and holds his ankles out. “But you’re not hogtying me.”

“Deal.” Louis runs off to his room to get more rope. “You’re the best, Z.”

“Save the praise for somebody who actually wants your dick.”

###

One of the defining features of soulmates is that they are brought together by circumstances outside their control (I.e., destiny). Destiny visits Harry while he’s lounging around on one of the couches in the club after watching an intense caning scene, wishing he’d thought to text Louis and ask if he was coming before he’d dropped his phone in the cloakroom. Lou would probably let him go check it—she and Caroline have a soft spot for him, as their youngest regular, that Harry does his best to exploit at every possible opportunity—but she’d also ask what could possibly be more urgent than chatting up the fit older women visiting from London, and for a sub she can be an awful tease.

“Harry?” Harry’s head snaps up as Caroline calls his name from across the room. “Do you have plans to play with anyone tonight?”

“Nope.” Harry pops the p and grins, getting up and shoving his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans. “How do you want me?”

Caroline crosses the room so she doesn’t have to shout. “I’m looking for somebody to help me do a demonstration for a new dom.” She puts a hand on Harry’s bare shoulder and smiles. “You up for it?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s mind immediately flicks to Louis, but even if it isn’t him, he always appreciates how Caroline seeks him out for these things. It’s probably because of how eager he is, but he likes to think he’s also pretty good for her, too. “Yeah, of course.”

“He’s waiting in one of the private rooms.” Caroline leads the way.

Louis’s standing in the middle of the dimly-lit room with his shirt off, flicking a flogger around experimentally. He’s got great wrist control, Harry notes automatically. And looks good shirtless. And is Harry’s soulmate. By the time Harry comes to that last conclusion, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re a natural.” Caroline nods at the flogger, and Louis snaps is another few times against the table. Harry’s bare back prickles, and his jeans start to feel tight.

“Thanks.” Louis sets the flogger down on the table. “Hi, Harry.”

Caroline looks between them. “Oh, you two have met before?”

“Oldest of friends,” Harry deadpans.

Louis nods solemnly. “It’s been—what, three whole weeks since we met?”

“Feels like a lifetime.” Harry can’t help smiling as he feels Louis’s eyes sweep over his body. “How’s the family?”

Louis nods, like he’s pleased with what he sees. “Molly sends her best.”

“Well.” Caroline cocks an eyebrow at Harry. “That’s… all right.”

Harry and Louis both giggle. Caroline grins.

“So I guess you know Louis’s been doing some private lessons with me and Lou.”

“He didn’t tell me.” Harry takes a step back and puts his hand over his heart. “Can you believe? After all we’ve been through.”

Louis drums his fingers on the table and sighs dramatically. “I’ve moved on, Harold, why can’t you accept that?”

“All right, all right.” Harry and Louis turn back to Caroline, but Harry can see that Louis’s still grinning. “Louis’s been working a lot on rope, which I know you like, Harry—“ Harry can feel Louis’s eyes on him, so he nods a little. “—so I was thinking he could tie you up and then watch while I paddle you a bit.”

Harry catches Louis’s glance and holds it while he answers. “You know I never turn down a paddling.”

Caroline hums. She touches Harry’s shoulder and he turns back towards her. “Are you feeling up to the gag tonight?” she asks.

Given that Harry plays with her more than anyone else, he should maybe feel a little guilty for so brazenly placing his attention elsewhere, but… Louis’s already hard, Harry can tell. There’s a good chance if Harry says no to the gag, he’ll get Louis in his mouth before they’re done. “Not tonight, I think,” Harry replies.

“All right.” Caroline clearly knows what he’s thinking, but she seems more amused than anything. “Wrists and ankles, then?”

Having his ankles tied together means nothing inside him, probably, but Louis’s thumbing over the rope in his hand with this hungry look and Harry nods. “Yeah.” Caroline looks over at Louis, who nods, too.

Caroline squeezes Harry’s elbow, then takes a step back. “Jeans off, then, love, and on your knees.”

Harry folds his jeans neatly and places them just under the table before assuming his position, standing upright on his knees with his arms at his sides. He’s already completely hard, which had probably been obvious to everyone in the room for a while already, but a thrill still runs down his spine when he sees Louis eye his cock, standing stiff at attention.

Louis winks at Harry before kneeling down behind him with the rope in his hand. It isn’t the most standard dom move—most of the people who have tied Harry up were more likely to snap at him than even smile—but Louis’s touch is firm on Harry’s lower back, and Harry already knows Louis isn’t going to be like the standard doms he’s met.

“Arms back,” Louis says, just behind Harry’s ear. God, just his _voice_ is already sending electric shocks through Harry’s body. Harry lowers his head as he complies so that his gaze is fixed on his cock. “Good.” Louis starts to loop the rope around Harry’s wrists and his lips part automatically. Fuck. _Good_ is an understatement.

Caroline laughs a little, reminding Harry that she’s there with a start. He straightens his spine. “How’d you know he loves being praised? Usually I try to make him earn it.”

Louis’s thumbs settle over both of Harry’s pulse points at once while he checks the tightness of the ropes. Just the tightness around Harry’s wrists feels _so good_ —Harry’s been addicted to it ever since he started coming to the club, so much that he’s been known to wrap bits of string around his wrists under his desk at college, just to remind himself what it’s like—but Louis’s light touches along his arms while he’s tying the knots are somehow even _better_ , sweet but not exactly tender, how does he _do_ that?

“He _is_ doing good, though.” Louis speaks softly, as if to himself. Harry bites his lip hard enough to remind him of how much he’d like to feel that pain elsewhere.

“Thanks.” Harry’s voice already feels foreign in his throat. He hopes this will end with Louis fucking it out of him entirely.

When Louis finishes binding Harry’s hands, he doesn’t move for a minute, just keeping his eyes on Harry. “Is that too tight?” he asks.

Harry clenches his hands into fists. It doesn’t pinch. He shakes his head.

“Get over the bench, then.” Caroline’s the one who makes the command, but Louis’s the one who guides him with a light touch on his lower back, until he’s bent over the spanking bench in the corner of the room. Harry keeps biting down on his lip while Louis wraps the rope around Harry’s ankles. He leaves a little slack between Harry’s ankles, so that his legs aren’t fully pressed together, and Harry can’t hold back a moan when Louis touches his slightly parted thighs.

“Enjoying yourself yet?” Harry opens his eyes and finds that Caroline’s moved in front of the bench, so that her groin is just above his eye level. Harry has to strain his neck to look up at her without lifting his torso off the bench, and it’s a familiar kind of good, the tension in his wrists and ankles and neck and Caroline looking down at him, a thick wooden paddle in her hand. He can hear Louis hum behind him as he fiddles with the rope around his ankles, though, and that’s even better.

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry loves hearing his own voice when he’s like this, loves how he sounds so easy for it.

“My little exhibitionist.” Caroline tips Harry’s chin up slightly with the paddle while Louis finishes up the restraints and stands up. “Just loves positions that thrust his arse out. Especially in the face of a pretty boy.”

Harry whines a little and arches his back. The restraints keep him from moving around too much. “Pretty,” Louis echoes, thoughtlessly.

“Are you ready for your spanking, love?” Caroline moves to Harry’s backside, so that he’s not looking at anything but the empty wall as he hears the two of them shift around behind him. “Ready to show Louis how much your pretty arse can take?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry wants to show Louis this and everything he can do and more, and the fact that it’s one of Louis’s first times seeing it at all—it just makes Harry want to do better, to show him how good he can be, how good _this_ can be, so that he’ll want it, too. He tries to keep his back arched, so that his arse sticks out in the way Caroline always likes while she warms him up with quick, light smacks of the paddle. Once she starts laying it into him in earnest, though, even the part of Harry that wants desperately to be good switches off. He just crumples forward onto the bench and lets himself _feel_.

Harry’s not so far out of it that he can’t hear Caroline talking behind him. He doesn’t really listen, preferring to focus on the buzzing, pulsing sensation. When hears Louis’s voice behind him, though, and something twists in his gut. They’re probably talking about different paddling materials or technique or something equally boring, so Harry doesn’t even try to focus in on the words; he just lets the honey-rich sound of Louis’s voice wash over him, soothing him even as the paddle starts to make his arse really sting.

“Harry?”

“Mmmm?” Sometimes Caroline has him keep track of how many he’s had, but this time he’s just drifting hazily in the sensation of it until she gets his attention.

Caroline’s voice is kind as she kneads the tender flesh of his arse carefully. “Louis asked if he could have a turn with the paddle. Would that be all right, love?”

Harry hisses as she squeezes his cheeks, then gasps when she gives them a light slap with her hand. “Yes, please,” he slurs, pressing his cheek into the bench just to feel something as Caroline pulls her hand away.

The next time the paddle lands, it’s a bit lighter, almost tantalizing, and Harry groans out loud. His cock is trapped untouched against the bench, desperate for friction. Caroline kneels in front of him and strokes his face. “Doing so well for us, love,” she says, while Harry gasps and keeps stopping himself from rutting against the bench. “You should see Louis’s face, he can’t believe how gorgeous you are.”

Louis says something but Harry doesn’t hear it. Caroline’s touch is enough to bring him far enough back into himself to make him aware of how _Louis_ is the one paddling his arse now—and how _debauched_ Harry must look, especially to Louis, Louis who has barely ever seen this kind of thing before, Louis who likes tea and lemon meringue pie and now apparently spanking Harry, oh _god_. Harry comes untouched against the spanking bench before Louis’s done. Caroline lets Louis keep at it for a few strokes, until he’s shivered through the aftershocks, before she motions for him to stop.

“Well done, Harry.” Caroline’s hand is firm against Harry’s cheek. “Going to untie you now, all right?”

“Wait.” Harry’s speaking before he thinks. He’s not thinking at all, honestly. He may have come out his brain. “C’n I—“ He pauses and hangs his head again for a minute as he feels a hand— _Louis’s hand_ —soothing over the redness of his arse.

“Hmm?” Caroline’s used to him like this, thank god. “What do you want, Harry?”

Harry’s whole body feels loose and pliant, like he could do anything, even in the restraints. His few inhibitions have floated away. “Wanna suck,” he mumbles, smacking his lips together while turning his head slightly towards his back. He can’t see Louis, but Caroline knows what he means.

“He wants to suck your dick,” Caroline reports to Louis, her hand resting gently on Harry’s shoulder. “You up for it?”

It feels like forever before Louis answers. “Yeah, I—yeah.”

Caroline helps him off the bench. Harry sways a little as he tries to inch closer to Louis with his ankles bound. “Maybe go easy,” Caroline says, low enough that she probably doesn’t mean for Harry to hear, “he _can_ deepthroat, but he doesn’t do it that often.”

Harry frowns and opens his mouth to defend his deepthroating skills—only as soon as he does, Louis pulls his cock out of his jeans, and Harry’s mouth starts _watering_. Louis’s _big_. Harry’s had bigger, probably—he hasn’t kept a chart or anything of all the guys he’s sucked off since he started coming to the club, but he knows he’s taken some massive men into his mouth—but Louis also has these tiny hands that make him look even bigger as he tugs on himself a few times, and Louis’s looking down with _wonder_ in his eyes as Harry licks his lips and leans forward to lick him so fast he unbalances himself a little, he wants it _so_ bad. Louis steadies him with a hand on his shoulder.

“See what happens when you’re greedy?” Caroline tuts. “Give it to him at your own pace, Louis.”

Louis nods, but doesn’t do anything for a moment, just stares down at the space between his dick and Harry’s lips. Harry’s arse clenches as Louis swipes his thumb over the head of his dick. “Please, sir,” Harry says under his breath, without taking his eyes off the pearl of precome bubbling out of Louis’s slit. 

Louis feeds his cock into Harry’s mouth slowly at first. Harry latches around the head like his life depends on it, keeping his eyes open and insistently focused on Louis’s. He doesn’t flinch when Louis’s halfway inside him, hard and heavy on his tongue, the musky smell of him assaulting all of Harry’s senses. Louis pulls back a little and thrusts back in to where he was a little faster, and Harry still doesn’t flinch, only blinks a little quickly and breathes harshly out his nose. Louis sinks his fingers into Harry’s hair and pushes his cock the rest of the way inside him in one fluid motion, not stopping when Harry finally sputters a little when Louis hits the back of his throat, and Harry’s so thankful for Louis trusting he can do it he could kiss him. That’s probably an odd thought to have when someone’s cock is in your throat, but when Louis tugs Harry’s hair harder and holds him in place while he fucks his mouth, he never takes his eyes off Harry’s face or stops licking his lips, and that’s what makes Harry finally close his eyes and groan. Louis comes all over Harry’s lips and Harry preens into it. It may not be the kiss he was hoping for, but it’s a start.

Louis doesn’t say anything after he’s tucked his dick back into his pants, but he watches Caroline untie Harry carefully. Harry closes his eyes and focuses on breathing steadily until he’s got a bit of his focus back. Caroline goes to the corner of the room and pulls two water bottles out of the fridge there. “You did great, Louis,” Caroline says, pressing a bottle into his hands. “Both of you,” Caroline amends as she hands the other one off to Harry. “Next time maybe you two can play together.”

Harry licks a bit of Louis’s come off his lower lip and smiles at Louis shyly. “I’d like that.” Louis sloshes some water on his jeans before he chokes out his agreement.

###

It was Harry’s idea for them both to fill out a BDSM checklist with their interests and limits, before they played together solo for the first time. It was Louis’s idea for them to sit down and go over it together over tea. It feels like an appropriate third date, for them. (Harry might not know it’s their third date, but Harry doesn’t seem like the type to have a three-dates-before-sex rule, either, so Louis’s comfortable taking certain liberties.)

There aren’t that many surprises on the list. At least, not after Harry says he’s really into the idea of being branded and Louis chokes on his scone. He’d figured Harry was serious about this whole thing—he didn’t think the average seventeen-year-old without a serious pain kink went around getting their nipples pierced—but the matter-of-fact way he talks about liking the idea of being permanently marked as belonging to someone makes it hard to be surprised by anything that comes after that. They find out that both of them are really into the idea of tattoos (though for Louis it’s not really in a masochistic way and for Harry it _definitely_ is, going by the wistful way he describes his piercing experience) and neither of them are particularly interested in drinking the other’s blood.

“At least not right now,” Harry says. He taps his pen against his chin. “Never say never.”

“That’s a good point,” Louis deadpans. “Think of how embarrassed I’d be if I became a vampire and I swore on this checklist that I’d never drink blood.”

Harry kicks Louis under the table. “There’s nothing wrong with being open-minded,” he says. His pout dissolves into a giggle when Louis mimics having fangs with his fingers.

Louis says never to rather a lot of Harry’s kinks, actually, but they still come up with a respectable list of kinks they have in common, from anal play to voyeurism with quite a bit in between. The only real surprise is that Louis has anal sex marked as _essential_ and Harry has it down as _curious_.

"You're a _virgin_?"

Harry flushes at Louis’s reaction. “Well… if that’s your definition of virgin, yeah.” Louis has to consciously make himself shut his mouth, when he sees how Harry fidgets looking at him. “It's just. It means something a bit different to me, you know? 's a bit more... intimate, than—“ Harry looks down at the list “—pony play.”

“I… well, that’s.” Louis scrambles to come up with the most diplomatic response possible. “That’s your perspective, then.” Louis has fucked a lot of guys that he would never want to see wearing a pony’s tail. In fact, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to see _anyone_ wearing a pony’s tail. (Although… if Harry were into it, and they could find one that matched the color of his hair…)

The boy who had brazenly declared his interest in drinking piss in front of Louis a few minutes ago is now tucking his hair behind his ear nervously. “It’s just… something special, for me.” He’s looking at Louis like he’s afraid Louis might run away. Louis’s more afraid that he’s going to lean over and kiss his stupid face. “Like… I let pretty much anyone at the club use me however they want, you know? Including anal play, even, just not… like that.”

Louis bites his tongue for a moment before he responds. “I guess I see how that makes sense, for you.”

Harry crumbles up a bit of his scone between his fingers. “’S why a lot of the guys at the club won’t play with me, actually,” he mumbles. “At least, not… long-term, like.”

“That’s rubbish.” Louis frowns, a wave of protectiveness overcoming him. “You’re—they’re missing out, definitely.”

“You think I’m mad, though.” Harry’s tone is slightly accusing, but he’s smiling. Louis smiles back.

"I--" Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, I respect your boundaries, obviously, I just... I don't think I've ever met anybody like you."

It feels like maybe that’s letting on too much, too fast (Harry might not even know this is their third date), but Harry’s grinning widely down at his pie, so. Maybe it’s not too much. The young mothers nursing their babies at the next table definitely think they’re too much when they move on to a loud argument on whether or not leashing should be considered puppy play, but that’s a kind of intensity he thinks he and Harry could be good at.

###

Louis has had a lot of sex in his day. He’s topped, he’s bottomed, he’s used a double-ended dildo with someone, and all in all has felt pretty good about himself for having explored a bit, in his time.

Nothing he’s ever done before even compares to his first solo scene with Harry.

The checklist had revealed a lot of interests they had in common—including some things Louis hadn’t even _heard_ of before (who knew there were so many implements you could use to hit someone?), but is eager to try—but they’d agreed that it was probably best to start with something simple, for Louis’s first time really domming.

They end up reenacting almost exactly the fantasy that sent Louis spiraling down this rabbit hole in the first place, though Louis doesn’t tell Harry that. Because if Louis told Harry that, he’d also end up telling him how it was so, so much _better_ , not just because it was a real tongue licking into him, real moans vibrating inside him, a real person’s breath tickling his hole—but because it was _Harry’s_ tongue, that Louis knows he always burns because he drinks his tea too fast, _Harry’s_ moans, a little higher-pitched than his normal speech, _Harry’s_ breath coming in sharp pants against his inner thighs, because _Harry_ is on his _knees_. It’s not _for_ Louis, really—not in the way he might have thought before he got to know Harry, before he understood that Harry really does do this for himself—but Harry wants it and he’s doing it with Louis, he _begs_ Louis to fuck his face after he’s already come just from Louis’s arse on his face and his whispers in his ear. Louis comes so hard down Harry’s throat he forgets everyone else in the room.

That doesn’t mean they go away, though. After Louis’s untied Harry with shaking hands and Harry’s left for a wee, a couple of the older guys who silently checked Louis out the first night he came to the club come around to congratulate Louis on a good scene.

“I wouldn’t’ve expected you for a top,” a man wearing a leather vest says. Louis raises his eyebrows. Is that supposed to be a compliment? “But you really got into his head, that was great.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Louis says. His fingers keep itching to reach out for Harry, but he isn’t there. “I know I did.”

“Never thought I’d get off so much on seeing a twink top another twink,” another man comments. Louis’s not even sure he’s talking to him, but his shoulders harden.

“Well, I’m hot, I know,” he says, holding his hand over his heart like it’s a burden, “and so is my sub.” Louis bites his lip, glances off at the bathroom, and wonders if he’s allowed to say that. “So’s Harry.”

Just then, Louis catches sight of Nick, of all people, watching him from across the room. He scowls automatically, which Nick seems to take as a sign of affection. Louis can’t believe how much sex he’s had with Nick Grimshaw while Harry Styles existed in the world unbeknownst to him.

Nick takes in the little circle of admirers around Louis and smiles a little. Louis _really_ doesn’t like him. He decides right then to tell Lou and Caroline about how Nick had tried things with him that they hadn’t talk about ahead of time. The more Louis thinks about it (thinks about someone treating Harry like that), the more sure he is he never wants to see Nick’s face around here again.

There are more pressing things on his mind right now, though. Harry comes back from the loo and scans the crowd for Louis. When he sees him, his face absolutely lights up.

Louis hasn’t felt as connected to another person since his first time. It had been overwhelming, then, just to touch another person in all the places you normally weren’t supposed to touch. Louis hasn’t even touched Harry in half of those places, but he almost ( _almost_ ) feels like he doesn’t even need to, like he might max out on his capacity for human interaction just from looking at Harry across a crowded room.

Harry hasn’t even had a first time. Louis supposes that should make him feel… anxious, or confused, maybe, about what this means. Objectively, it seems a little like taking advantage of him. But then again, Harry’s just shown that he can do something Louis, for all his vast experience in taking dick in his arse, has never even seriously thought about doing. And Harry’s not shy about liking it, either. When he smiles at Louis while elbowing his way back to him, there’s not a hint of coyness about it. Harry might be submissive, but he’s anything but passive about it. It _does_ something to Louis, something a lot more than turning him on, but it does turn him on a hell of a lot, so he decides to focus on that, at least for tonight.

###

Harry has been coming to the club for upwards of six months, ever since he got his fake ID that Lou and Caroline didn’t look at once, and he’s played with a lot of people in that time. None of them were like Louis.

It’s not just that Louis seems to read his body like an open book, knowing just where and how to touch him to make him feel exposed and reassured at the same time, which of his little hitches of breath mean _too much_ and which mean _more more more_. It’s not just that Louis has an arse that feels like divine revelation and small hands that push Harry exactly hard enough.

It might be that Louis’s a _boy_ —not a man, quite yet—and after he’s done fucking his throat, he isn’t just moving on to the next twink.

Once Harry comes back from the loo and the small crowd that had been watching them dissolves, Louis can’t stop running his hands over the faint rope imprints on Harry’s wrists.

“Don’t have to keep doing that.” Harry clears his throat. It feels incredibly well-fucked. “You didn’t, like, cut off my circulation or anything.” In spite of the words coming out of his mouth, Harry doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah, but…” Louis’s thumb settles over Harry’s pulse point. He doesn’t press down, but Harry shivers anyway. “Aftercare?”

Harry smiles. It’s probably a little condescending. “Usually I just have a lie down and some fruit.”

“Oh.” Louis looks… put-out. Harry leans back into the couch, and Louis doesn’t stop holding his hands, even though he has to lean over Harry’s lap. “I read… cuddling is good, like.”

Harry nods. “I usually curl up with my cat when I get home.”

“You could curl up with me now.” Louis tenses for a minute. “I mean—if you want.” He drops Harry’s hands. “I could also go find you some fruit. Or… tea? Or a cat.”

Harry only hesitates for a second before leaning his head against Louis’s shoulder. “Don’t think you’ll find a cat anywhere around here,” he says as Louis slings his arm over Harry’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “You’ll do, though.”

Louis laughs a little. Harry feels the vibrations through his whole body.

“Nice job, both of you.” Harry doesn’t look up when Lou comes over to where they’re sitting. “Can I get you two anything?”

“Tea, please?” Louis’s hand tangles in Harry’s hair while he grins up at Lou. “Milk, no sugar.”

Harry doesn’t move his head at all, afraid that Louis might move his hand if he does. “Same for me,” he croaks.

They’re both the kind of people who take tea after a nice round of face-fucking. They might be soulmates, after all.

###

Their second scene is even better than their first. Louis surprises Harry by landing them one of the private rooms. Harry surprises Louis with his favorite pair of lacy pink panties under his jeans.

“So pretty, Harry.” Louis blows Harry slowly, telling him to keep still and forbidding him to come even as he focuses all his attention on making Harry’s cock as full and hard as possible. “Just for me, hmm?”

“Yes— _hnnnnngh_ —yes, sir.” Harry’s never been with a dom who enjoys seeing him struggle to contain his own pleasure so much—at least, not without an audience to be impressed by their prowess. Harry’s never complained about being used as an instrument for getting other people off—it’s basically his favorite thing in the world—but there’s a different kind of discipline that comes with this, with pleasing someone just by being _pretty_ for them, just by being a body that reacts the way Louis wants it to.

Harry cracks a little when Louis bends him over the table and licks over his crack through the lace of his panties. He doesn’t _want_ to move—but it’s so unexpected and so _good_ when Louis’s tongue runs teasing over his rim that he can’t help but squawk and jut his hips back into the sensation.

“All right?” Louis doesn’t punish him, except by dipping his tongue just inside Harry. Harry’s _dizzy_ with how good it is. “You want my fingers?”

“ _Yes_.” Harry hisses as just the tip of Louis’s finger nudges inside. “Please, sir, _please_.”

When Harry’s finally allowed to come, after what feels like an eternity of Louis teasing his prostate, his orgasm feels like it’s wrenched out of him by force. What gets Harry off even harder than the lingerie and the denial is the way Louis looks at him like he wants to eat him whole. Unlike most of the other men at the club, who lose interest when they want to fuck him and he says no, Louis just seems to get more and more captivated by Harry with every second they play. After Harry’s come, Louis pulls him back to his knees and starts jerking off wildly in front of his face. Harry, still dizzy from coming, tries to get his lips around Louis, but Louis grabs his chin roughly and holds him in place while he comes in thick ribbons all over Harry’s cheeks. They stare at each other through the whole thing. Until Harry gets come in his eye, but even that doesn’t put a damper on things, not really, since both of them start giggling while Louis’s cleaning off Harry’s face and they don’t stop until they leave the club an hour later.

Their third time gets a little shaky. It’s been a week since their last scene, and they’ve started texting about things other than lingerie and rope bondage, so Harry’s hopeful that things will be even better now that they’re sort of legitimately friends. It definitely feels like an important step on the way to fulfilling their destiny as soulmates.

They don’t play in private this time, though, and Louis acts a little more… stiff, like he’s anxious about all the people watching them. Caroline rides Harry’s face while Louis paddles him, and he goes hard enough that Harry has to word out. Louis freaks.

“It’s really common to use the safeword, Louis.” Caroline holds Louis’s hand while massaging lotion into Harry’s arse with one hand. “It doesn’t mean you fucked up. The word’s there as a safety net, and you used the safety net. That’s _good_.”

Louis doesn’t really calm down, though. He doesn’t touch Harry for a while, afterwards, and that feels worse than the paddling in the first place. Once Harry reaches out and touches his elbow, though, Louis suddenly tugs Harry into his arms and doesn’t let go for a long time. When other people complain that they’re taking up the whole couch, Louis just flips them off. Harry nuzzles against Louis’s side and hopes that he never gets any taller, because the way they fit against each other is just like puzzle pieces.

“I just,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s neck. “I could really hurt you, you know?”

“But you didn’t.” Harry feels a little bad, smiling so widely while Louis’s still obviously freaked, but he’s pretty sure he physically won’t be able to stop smiling until he detaches from Louis. “’Cause I stopped you. We’re a team, see?”

Harry holds up his hand for a high five. Louis laces his fingers through Harry’s. Harry swears he’s still smiling about it when he wakes up the next day.

Louis texts Harry almost constantly the next week, to make sure he’s all right. He says he read in a book that it’s important to check in after a scene, especially a stressful one, to make sure the sub is doing all right. Harry thinks it’s a little excessive to keep checking in every waking hour or so four days after the scene, but he’s certainly not going to complain about it.

Except to Niall, of course. That’s what best friends are for.

_L: thinking of you, hope you’re good xx_

“I’m in love with him, Niall,” Harry sighs dramatically. He very nearly throws his phone across the room, but given how Niall is starfished out over the couch, there’s a good chance Harry would hit him. “This is absolute torture.”

Niall isn’t particularly concerned by this dramatic declaration. “I thought you were into torture?” That’s a definite downside to having friends who have known you for almost your whole life, Harry thinks. Too much perspective. Harry takes a deep drag of the joint they’re sharing before passing it back to Niall and typing out a response to Louis.

_H: could be better… bruises are fading :(((((_

“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it,” Harry says. He flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling morosely. “I’m thinking a summer wedding. On the beach, because the water matches his eyes. Maybe a pier. I think we could work a nautical theme. Lots of rope.”

“We could tie you together and throw you into the sea.” Niall gets poetic when he’s high. Or at least he thinks he does. “Very romantic.”

Harry’s phone buzzes with another text from Louis.

_L: if you don’t stop being so sweet I’ll start thinking you like me for more than my dick_

This time Harry actually does throw his phone across the room. “He’s _funny_ ,” he wails, kicking his feet into the air. “And sweet, and hot as _sin_ , and really great with knots. I think he’s my soulmate.”

“Not sure why you think he isn’t into you, too.” Niall picks up Harry’s phone and scrolls through it. “He’s texting you, like, every three fucking minutes.”

“He’s just being a good dom, Niall.” Harry accidentally grabs the joint back from him instead of the phone. He frowns at it. “You should’ve seen him when he thought he hurt me. He just cares a lot.”

“How, exactly, is that different from him being into you?”

 _Fuck_ Niall for being so philosophical on weed.

“It’s 2011, Niall.” Harry flicks the joint away and watches it roll on the ground. “People can fuck their friends’ faces without it meaning anything more than that.”

Niall goes to pat Harry on the head, but lands on his cheek. “Whatever you say, mate.”

###

Their fourth scene is on a Tuesday, even though both of them have class early the next day. Both Directions is closing the next week while Lou and Caroline go on holiday, and Louis jokes that he’s got to get his fill of Harry while he can. (Harry’s spine tingles a little when Louis refers to the thing they’re doing like it’s a drug, because that’s how it feels to Harry, too: heady and intoxicating and just illicit enough to be all the sweeter for it). It’s Louis’s first time using a flogger, and he goes a little too hard again, but Harry relishes the way the bruises feel when he’s in class the next day. Halfway through maths he goes to the loo and sends Louis a photo of him pressing down on the bruises on his back.

_L: cheeky_

_L: does it hurt?_

_H: yes sir thank you xxx_

The next photo Harry sends Louis is decidedly not of his bruises.

_L: oh my GOD HARRY_

_L: YOU ARE IN SCHOOL don’t DO that_

_L: or maybe do_

_L: but not while we’re both in class JESUS let’s talk about it L A T E R_

“Later” comes on Friday. They meet at the club early and sit on the couches drinking tea while Lou and Caroline sweep the floors and fill up the condom bowls.

“I’m just not sure it’s good for you to be covered in bruises while you’re learning Shakespeare.” Louis sits cross-legged, holding his mug with both hands, while Harry stretches his gangly legs out all over the couch.

Harry humphs. “You’re not my mother.” Harry might want Louis to be his daddy, but Louis doesn’t know that yet, so he can’t use it against him.

Louis karate-chops Harry’s leg when he bops his foot against Louis’s knee. Harry spills some of his tea on the sofa.

“Oi!” Harry says loudly, rubbing over the spot where Louis kicked him even though it wasn’t hard enough to even leave a mark. “That wasn’t negotiated. I could get you kicked out of here for that.”

“Oh _please_.” Louis squeezes Harry’s foot. “You hurt yourself worse than that just trying to walk to the bathroom.”

Harry sighs dramatically. “ _You’re_ the one trying to introduce boundaries into our relationship, yet here you are—“

Louis karate-chops his leg again and Harry squawks.

“If you spill on that couch you’re going to be replacing it with your bodies,” Lou calls from across the club. “It cost a bloody fortune.”

Harry and Louis look at each other, then down at the little stain where Harry sloshed tea earlier. Louis pulls one of the pillow from behind his back and covers it up, not very well. Harry giggles.

“I might have a thing for that, actually,” he says thoughtfully. Louis raises an eyebrow. “Like, acting as furniture? Have we ever talked about that?”

“ _Stop_ changing the subject, Harold.” Louis puts his tea down on the floor and leans forward, resting his chin on his hands and giving Harry a look of exaggerated sternness. “This is _important_.”

“Sorry.” Harry sets his tea down on the floor as well and takes a minute to remember what they were talking about. “I mean. I guess when it comes down to it… I still think of you as my dom when we’re not playing, you know. I mean, not in quite the same way, but…”

“So.” Louis’s faux-sternness softens into a thoughtful expression. “If I gave you, like… orders, not just while we’re playing, but whenever. Would you follow them?”

“Yeah.” Harry shrugs. “I mean. I kind of like doing things that make you happy.”

Louis leans back and crosses his arms. “I’d be happy if you didn’t fail English.”

“I’m not going to _fail English_ just because I got hard _once_.” Harry glances down at Louis’s crotch and cocks his head to the side. “Are _you_ going to fail _your_ course if I keep sending you nudes in class?”

Louis doesn’t answer, except with a scowl. Harry picks up his tea again, feeling satisfied. After a minute, Louis continues, “I think we both need to think more about stuff like that, yeah?” Harry hums in agreement. “We can turn up the dirty talk if you want, though.”

“How _generous_ of you.” Harry nudges Louis’s half-hard cock through his pants with his foot. “Always putting others’ needs before your own.”

“Why are you such an _arse_?” Louis bats Harry’s foot away from his dick with a sigh. “It’s like you don’t even _want_ to try the spreader bar.”

“Sorry, sir.” Harry smirks at the face Louis makes, half turned on and half annoyed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

(Louis does use the spreader bar on him, of course. They do it in a private room, because Louis says it’s easier for him to concentrate, and the knots are more complicated than anything they’re tried before. Harry comes with his cheek smushed against the floor, his arse high in the air while Louis switches the plug inside him on and off with every little sound Harry lets out. Louis comes on Harry’s lower back, just inches from where Harry is spread out for him, unable to close his legs if he wanted to. Harry’s whole body shakes even after he’s come with the knowledge that it would be so, so easy for Louis to fuck him like this, to pull the plug out of him and slip his cock into its place, inside Harry. Harry knows that Louis won’t, would never, and for a minute or so Harry forgets that’s because he told him he didn’t want it.)

Neither of them are joke about getting their next fix, afterwards. Harry is plastered to Louis’s side like a koala bear. After having so much of Louis’s attention on him this week, he doesn’t think he could wait a full two weeks until for their usual Friday playtime even if he wanted to. 

“We could…” Harry mumbles. He’s so quiet he almost can’t hear himself over the noise of the background music in the club, but Louis’s looking down at him expectantly.

“What’s that, love?” Louis pets at Harry’s hair.

Harry takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t always have to be here, you know.” He doesn’t look at Louis, instead keeping his eyes steady on where Lou is splayed out in one of the sex swings with Caroline’s fist inside her. “We could play somewhere else, if you wanted.”

Louis laughs a little into Harry’s hair. “Like at your mum’s?”

Harry glares at him and doesn’t answer. Eventually, Louis’s face goes a bit more serious.

“I could kick Zayn out of the flat,” he says thoughtfully. “That’s usually fun”

Harry perks up a little, resting his temple against Louis’s cheek. “So… next Friday, at yours?”

“Next Friday at mine.”

###

Louis spends ages trying to come of with something special for the first time Harry comes over to his, but everything special he thinks he wants to try feels like something he should really talk to Lou about first. He’s not quite confident enough in his flogging skills yet to try that without supervision, and the more he lets himself ponder things they haven’t tried yet, the more he thinks about how fucking _cute_ Harry’s arsehole is and all the pretty sounds he would make if Louis sunk his cock inside him. Just thinking about that feels like a violation of Harry’s trust, and Harry’s trust is pretty much everything to him at this point.

Thinking about making out with Harry on his couch for hours isn’t much better, but it’s the reason why he’s hard and a little frazzled when he answers the door for Harry.

“Hiiiii,” Harry drawls. He’s smiling wide and has a bag slung over his shoulder. Louis welcomes him in, and Harry spends a minute or so looking over the flat. Louis scratches the back of his neck and wonders if he should have cleaned. Most of the mess is BDSM books scattered all over the place, though. Harry smiles.

“I kind of brought something?” He sets his bag down on the arm of Louis’s couch and digs through it. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Louis leans against the counter. Harry looks good in his living room.

“I wasn’t sure what you had.” Harry pulls out a long pink silk bag.

“A _lot_ of condoms and lube,” Louis says without thinking. Then he remembers he’s not going to fuck Harry. Right. “And rope,” he adds. “Not much else. Well, _hello_ there.”

Harry pulls a short, thick vibrator out of the bag. It’s purple, with flecks of glitter. Louis is in love.

“I call her Dorcas,” Harry says. He looks down at the toy shyly. “Thought you could fuck me with her?”

“Dorcas.” Louis smiles down at the toy, then up at Harry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dorcas,” Louis says to the toy. He drums his fingers against his thigh and quickly formulates a plan. “I have a feeling we’ll get along great.”

It’s not, objectively, _that_ much different from anything they’ve done before. Louis binds Harry’s wrists to his thighs instead of each other, but that’s par for the course. The things is, though—when Louis eases Harry down onto his back and spreads his legs open, it’s not on one of the padded mats on the club floor, but in Louis’s _bed_. And when Louis opens him up with his fingers, it’s not just to slip a plug inside him—it’s to _fuck_ him, to fuck Harry with his  _glittery_  vibrator that he _named_ , and Louis _knows_ its name, just like he knows the boy spread out on his bed, how he goes absolutely wild when Louis toys with his nipples, how he likes to suck on three of Louis’s fingers while another three scissors inside his arse.

All of it is incredibly, achingly familiar, until Louis starts to fuck Harry with the toy like it’s a cock, like it could be _his_ cock, gripping his hip with one hand and working the vibrator inside hard and fast inside him, and Harry moans, “ _Daddy_.”

Louis freezes. Harry rocks back and forth on the vibrator as much as he can in his bound position, thrashing his head back and forth on Louis’s pillow and undulating his hips.

“Fuck me,” Harry says, biting back a groan as Louis, too shocked to move, flicks the vibrations up a notch. “Fuck, _please_ , inside me, _now_ , I need it, your cock, Daddy _please_.”

 _That’s_ new. “Shh, baby.” Louis soothes his hand over Harry’s hip while twisting the toy inside him. Harry shouts, his whole body shaking. “Shh.” Louis leans down and takes Harry’s cock into his mouth, just sucking the precome off the end and getting Harry to arch into the mattress before he pulls off again and adds, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” Louis barely gets his mouth back on Harry before he’s shouting again and coming all over Louis’s lips.

Louis was thinking up fucking Harry’s mouth, afterwards, but Harry looks _so_ gone that Louis can’t convince himself to do it. He straddles Harry’s chest, enjoying how Harry writhes underneath him, and teases Harry’s nipple rings with his cock for a minute before pulling himself off onto Harry’s chest.

As soon as he comes, Louis wants to just collapse next to Harry on his bed, crawl into the space under his arm, and have Harry hold him. He can’t do that, though. Not while Harry’s tied up and dazed and covered in their come. It isn’t until Louis’s untied him, cleaned him off, and pulled him up against his chest that Harry regains the power of speech.

“That,” Harry says hoarsely, “was fucking brilliant.”

Louis smiles into Harry’s hair. “Figured you liked it,” he says kindly. “What with how you were begging me to fuck you in the middle.”

Louis can feel Harry’s blush without even seeing it. “I… barely know what I’m saying, sometimes.”

“Figured.” Louis tries to keep his voice even. “That’s why we talk about boundaries beforehand, right? So there’s no… mistakes, in the middle of the action.”

“No mistakes,” Harry repeats. He sounds distracted. He rests his hand on Louis’s waist gently.

They sit in silence for another minute or so. Louis’s mind, though, is racing. “So…” Louis clears his throat. “Daddy?”

Harry goes stiff in Louis’s arms. “Sorry, maybe we should’ve talked about that.” He mumbles his words against Louis’s chest. “It’s… kind of embarrassing?”

“Harry.” Louis’s voice suddenly goes soft. He’d thought they’d cleared the last of the embarrassment hurdles the time Harry asked him to piss in his mouth and Louis said no. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed about anything with me.”

“I’ve never called anybody else that.” Harry untangles his limbs from Louis and sits up, resting his temples on his hand. “It’s… really good, doing this with you.”

“You said.” Louis scoots into an upright position and leans against the wall. “Don’t know if I mentioned, but it’s pretty brilliant for me, too.”

“I mean…” Harry shifts away from Louis a little. Louis does his best not to pout, his arms feeling useless and empty. “I’ve never…” Harry bites his lip and examines Louis carefully. “I’ve never lost myself as much as I do with you. It's... every time, it’s more and more? Like, Caroline knows me pretty well, and the others I’ve played with have been really good, but you make me…”

Louis doesn’t breathe until Harry finishes his sentence. “You push me so much further,” Harry says. He stares off into the distance as he continues. “Not just the things you do, but. The way you talk to me. The way you _are_ with me. Because at the same time you make me feel… safe, like. Taken care of.”

“Daddied,” Louis finishes. Harry finally looks back at him.

“Yeah.” He smiles a little, like he’s trying to make this sound smaller than it actually is. “You’re just. You get to me more than anyone else.”

Louis stares down at his fingers and drums them against his knee. “How do you feel about that?” he asks. He sounds a lot less terrified of the question than he feels.

Harry looks surprised. He scoots back next to Louis and rests his head on Louis’s shoulder with a sigh. “I fucking love it,” he says, under his breath.

“Good, then.” Louis suddenly feels a thousand times lighter. “I can be Daddy, for you. I _want_ to.”

Harry opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he just hums. “Thanks,” he says after a minute. He kisses Louis’s shoulder quickly.

“Zayn should be back from work, soon,” Louis says, his glance drifting towards the door. Harry humphs. Louis waits a minute before he says, “You can stay, if you want.”

Harry hums contentedly and flops down so that his head is in Louis’s lap. He smiles wide with his eyes closed. “Yes, please.”

Louis’s been in love a few times before, or at least he thought he was, but he’s pretty sure he’s never felt his heart literally ache like it does when Harry curls up in his lap looking so utterly satisfied and content, while all Louis wants is _more more more_.

###

The second time Harry comes over to Louis’s flat, he kicks Louis out for two and a half hours.

“You’re going to ruin my reputation as a dom before I even get one, you know.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Harry assures him while he pushes him out the door. “Well. Probably.”

Louis turns around in the door and glances at the big paper bags Harry’s dropped on the counter. “What do you even need _two and a half hours_ to set up for, that you’re not telling me about?”

“ _You’ll see_.” Harry kicks Louis’s shin and jerks his chin towards the stairs. “In two hours. Byeeee.”

At least he waits until Louis’s fingers are out of the way before he slams the door shut. It’s why Louis is in love with him, probably. He spends the two hours walking back and forth between the uni library and his flat, Snapping Zayn images of funny-looking dogs and asking if anyone’s ever kicked him out of his flat before.

_Z: only you, doofus, and now your boy. I’m borrowing jeans from pezza, I hope he’s worth it_

Louis comes back to his flat two hours later and finds Harry kneeling on the ground by the door in nothing but a white lacy apron, his kitchen table set for one with a series of candles on the table and some kind of fragrance wafting through the air that is definitely not the flat’s usual stale-take-out-and-cigarette-smoke.

“Jesus, Harry.” Louis stops in the doorway for a full minute, his hands twitching as he takes in the sight of Harry on his knees in front of him. It hasn't stopped taking his breath away yet.

“Wanted to thank you.” Harry speaks softly, and keeps his gaze trained at Louis’s knees.

“For _what_?” Louis's done a lot of things in his life, but none of them have led him to deserve  _this_.

“Being so good to me.” Harry clears his throat and, finally, looks straight into Louis’s eyes. “Daddy,” he adds in a small voice.

Louis isn’t sure if the word hits his cock or his heart harder, but either way, his veins are thrumming. He tries to keep his cool. “You don’t _owe_ me anything, you know.” Louis starts to toe off his shoes until Harry puts a hand over his foot.

“Want to.” Harry keeps his eyes steady on Louis while he undoes Louis’s laces and slides his shoes off his feet slowly. Louis isn’t so much aroused (though, okay, that’s _definitely_ a component) as he is awed by the sight of Harry, with his frilly white apron doing nothing to mask his rock hard cock and his pale skin dusted with a hint of a red flush as he bends down and kisses the tops of Louis’s feet through his socks.

Louis rests a hand on the top of Harry’s head and he hums with his eyes closed, still hunched over on his knees. That’s when something inside Louis clicks, the affection in his gut becomes a little less overwhelming, and his persona turns on.

“Good boy,” he says. Harry preens and follows him into the kitchen on all fours. Louis sits down at the elaborately-set table. He’s never seen his kitchen table look so good. There’s a deep purple table cloth and a _rose_ in a glass vase that definitely does not belong to Louis or Zayn. “Tell me what you made for me.”

Harry sits back on his heels at Louis’s side and folds his hands in his lap. “Seafood paella, sir. And strawberry shortcake, in the fridge.”

His voice is so deep but delicate. Louis can’t decide if he wants to wreck him or sit him down in the chair across from him and feed him strawberries. Only one of those seems like a plausible option, though.

“Apron off.”

Harry shucks the apron off and resumes his position quickly. He looks so eager to please and his cock is so hard Louis wants to cry.

“Remember where I keep the rope?”

Harry closes his eyes, bites his lip, and nods.

“Go get it for me. And the blindfold.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry’s halfway crawled into Louis’s bedroom, swaying his perfect pale little arse like he _knows_ what it does to Louis, before Louis clears his throat loudly.

“Not sir.”

Harry shoulders seize up and he freezes, sitting back on his heels and glancing over his shoulder at Louis nervously.

“Yes, Daddy,” Harry says, so softly Louis can only barely hear the quiver in his voice. Louis drops a hand to palm himself under the table.

“Go on.”

Louis starts eating while Harry’s fetching the rope. He’s not even sure what paella is, to be honest, but it’s _really_ fucking good. It’s maybe a little weird how turned on he is by Harry’s cooking. Harry crawls back out of the bedroom with a long length of rope and a black scarf in hand, and part of Louis wants to tell him, wants to pull Harry’s face into his lap and scream _look what you do to me_ , but Harry probably wouldn’t be into it for the reasons Louis wants. Not because he wants Louis like Louis wants him. So Louis makes do with blindfolding him and tying his hands behind his back.

When Harry’s gotten comfortable again on his knees next to Louis, he spoons up a bit of rice and holds it to Harry’s mouth. Harry doesn’t move until Louis says, quietly, “Eat up.”

Louis gets a sick sort of thrill from feeding Harry from the same spoon he’s eating from. It’s not really sanitary, but he plans to have Harry eating his arse in under half an hour, so. After he retrieves the strawberry shortcake from the fridge and takes a few bites of it for himself, he feeds the rest to Harry with his hands, until Harry’s lips are sticky and swollen from sucking on Louis’s fingers and both of them are so hard Louis can’t resist the urge to bring himself off right then, fully clothed with his fingers covered in frosting, coming all over Harry’s cheeks before feeding that to him, too.

Louis kneels down in front of Harry, his pulse racing, ready to pull him off to orgasm as well, but Harry makes an anguished sound deep in his throat and shakes his head. Louis stares at him for a few moments.

“Only want to please you.” Harry’s voice is deep and rough. Louis’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone sound so desperate _not_ to come.

The easy thing to do would be to tell Harry to be a good boy for Daddy and come. Louis’s relationship with Harry isn’t easy, though. He kisses Harry on the forehead, unties him, and tells him to clean up while Louis watches telly. Harry still hasn’t come when Zayn come home from work at midnight to find them cuddled in front of the television, Harry snoring gently against Louis’s chest with another load of Louis’s come painted on his cheeks. Zayn makes no pretense of not being disgusted, but Harry is pleased when Louis carries him, half-asleep, into his bed and spoons him without touching his cock, and that’s all that matters to Louis.

###

The next morning, Harry’s face breaks out, because it turns out leaving come on your face for several hours is not actually a dermatological cure-all. Louis fusses over the red splotches on his face for a long time, apologizing over and over while washing Harry’s face with all sorts of products that Zayn’s girlfriends have left in their bathroom. It’s while Louis is dabbing cover-up over the marks that Harry brings it up.

“So…” Harry swallows.

Louis shakes his head and dramatically shushes him with a finger on Harry’s lips. “Stay _still_ while I do this.” Harry cracks a grin, which makes Louis flick him on the nose. He tries to keep his face still while Louis keeps tutting over him, but it turns out the only way to do that is to stay frozen in a huge grin.

“I may have missed my calling,” Louis muses as he sets aside the make-up. “Your face doesn’t look half bad, Styles.” Harry’s pretty sure he blushes. Louis strokes his cheek, then says, “You were saying?”

Harry blinks a few times, then inhales deeply. “I’m kind of going out of town next weekend.” Stupid. He’s _definitely_ going out of town next weekend. Why does Louis make him so stupid?

“Yeah?” Louis keeps eyeing over his makeup job on Harry’s face. “Young Harold heading out to see the world?”

“Not quite.” Harry doesn’t let himself be upset that Louis isn’t disappointed. He sits up and stretches. “My mum’s getting married. Over at the old family place in Cheshire.”

“Will you be playing the role of flower girl?” Louis raises an eyebrow and wraps his finger up in one of Harry’s curl.

“Groomsman.” Louis sighs and drops his hand from Harry’s curl. “But I’m thinking I might put flowers in my hair.”

“Charming.” Louis gets up on his knees and ruffles Harry’s hair. “Guess that means no playtime, though.” He sits back on his heels and looks thoughtful. “Unless you want to meet up before you leave? Nothing heavy, if you’re going to be traveling, but—“

“Actually,” Harry blurts, and once that word is out, the rest of it has to come, too. “Maybe. If you’re not busy. You could. Come with me?”

Louis’s hand feels heavy on Harry’s head. He goes very still. “I’m not busy.”

“I—okay, here’s the thing, I.” Harry chews on his lips for a minute. “Kind of told my mum I have a boyfriend?”

Louis makes a garbled noise in the back of his throat. All right, good to know that that’s how he reacts to the word boyfriend. Not that Harry has been dying to know. Right. Knowing that makes things easier, somehow. Louis’s hand drops from his hair.

“It’s just easier to explain where I am, that way,” Harry explains while rubbing his thumb over the faint impression of rope on his wrist.

Louis makes the same strange noise. “Than to say you’re out getting tied up and letting strangers fuck your throat.” He sounds amused, anyway

Harry laughs. “Yeah.” Louis could be cool about this. He’s cool. “And, like. I got away with being secretive about it for a few months, but eventually she started asking questions and… I mean, I’m with you so much, it was the easiest lie.”

Louis nods. He opens his mouth, then shakes himself and doesn’t say anything. Harry grows bolder.

“You don’t _have_ to pretend to be my boyfriend just because I let you fuck me up,” Harry says, touching his face where Louis’s made him up. Louis cracks a distracted grin. “ _But_ I might be begging. I’ll get down on my knees, if that’ll help.”

Louis snorts, then flicks Harry knee. “You’ll get down on your knees anyway.”

“There’ll be cake.” Harry sits on his kneels and clasps his hand together in supplication. “You won’t have to wear a tie. Or socks. Or anything at all, even, I wouldn’t mind.” He turns out his lower lip. Louis reaches out like to touch it, before looking away and shaking his head.

“Covering up your kinky lifestyle by pretending to have a nudist boyfriend.” Louis’s teasing feels like a good sign. “You _are_ desperate.”

“Very,” Harry agrees. He’s never been ashamed to show desperation before. Especially not in front of Louis.

“Okay.” Louis throws up his hands. “I’ll even wear a tie, how’s that?”

Harry pumps his fist in the air. “ _Thank_ you.” And at that, Harry does crawl off the bed to kneel on the floor by Louis’s feet. “And, you know… that way. We can still play.”

“What, in your childhood bedroom?” Louis thinks he’s joking, but Harry’s morning wood certainly isn’t opposed to the thought. “With your whole extended family there to overhear?”

Louis tucks some of Harry’s hair behind his ear. Harry shivers, closes his eyes, and nods.

“Fuck, you _like_ that.” Louis moves to sit on the side of the bed so his legs are bracketing Harry’s body. “You want me to toy with you where anyone can see?”

Harry wants Louis to toy with him literally anywhere and everywhere. He looks up at him under his lashes and tries to make it obvious without saying the words.

“All right,” Louis says. He thinks for a minute, then nods decisively. “I’m _definitely_ wearing a tie.”

###

Harry’s the one who suggested the plug, but Louis’s the one who suggested the remote control, so Harry figures it’s fair that he breaks just after the ceremony and drags Louis into the bathroom of the reception hall.

Louis lets himself be pulled along with an amused grin. A group of distant cousins seem to watching them, and Louis waves at them cheekily. He’s gotten on disturbingly well with Harry’s family all day.

(Mostly, it’s disturbing how many of them nod sagely and say Louis is exactly Harry’s type. He’s never even _had_ a boyfriend before, let alone brought one to family events. He wonders if he’s really as much of an open book as he feels when Louis toys with the vibrator against his prostate while he’s standing at the altar. They catch eyes just before the vows, Louis’s thumb obviously hovering over the little remote control on his key ring, and Harry has to look away before he blurts out something Louis’s probably not ready to hear. Like _marry me_.)

“Harry talks about you so much,” his mum told Louis earlier while pinching Harry’s cheek. He groaned, then Louis flicked on the vibrator and Harry’s groan ended in a whimper.

“Does he, now?” Louis patted Harry’s bum, nudging the base of the plug, and Harry covered his face with his hands. “All good things, I hope.”

“He was all secretive about it, at first,” Harry’s mum explained, as if Harry isn’t _right there_ , which is _not on_ because the whole point of pretending Louis is his boyfriend is she’s not supposed to know he _likes_ that. “If it were any other day I’d have to sit you down and interrogate your intentions, but things are a bit tight today, as you can see, so I’ll just have to trust Harry’s judgment.”

“He is rather wise, isn’t he.” Louis moved his hand to the nape of Harry’s neck and looked at him fondly as he switched the vibrator off again.

“You’ll just have to come over for dinner sometime, once things have settled down,” Harry’s mum continued. “Robin and Gem will give you a full cross-examination.”

“ _Mum_.” Harry pushed his mother on the shoulder. “Do you think you could focus on getting married instead of pestering my boyfriend?” Harry smiled a little at the word  _boyfriend_. Even if it was just pretend.

“Aw, Hazza,” Louis teased, tugging on his hair. “Don’t want me to get to know your new daddy? Worried I won’t measure up?”

Harry’s mum laughed. Harry made a face that he hoped said something other than _I want to kiss your face right off your body_. He’s pretty sure he’s been wearing that face for the entire ceremony. At least now he’s pretty sure he’s got a good way to relieve some of the tension. He pulls Louis into the single-stall bathroom while his cousins aren’t looking, roughly, though the very moment the door closes behind them he hunches his shoulders and leans back against the door, looking at Louis pleadingly.

Louis glances into the mirror and adjusts his tie. “Thought we agreed that you aren’t going to come until tonight,” he says, part-teasing, part-inquiring. “Was gonna tie you to the bedposts with these.” He tugs at the bottom of Harry’s tie.

Harry swallows hard. “Don’t need to come.” He’s almost indignant about it. He’s Daddy’s good boy, isn’t he? He checks the lock on the door, then gets on his knees, with absolutely no thought to the state of his fancy trousers. “Need you to fuck me.”

Louis actually looks startled for a moment. He’s not hard enough for it to be obvious through his trousers. Harry clasps his hands behind his back and doesn’t touch without permission. Louis steps forward so that his groin is just in front of Harry’s face. “You’ve got to give a speech, baby,” he says, sounding more amused than anything.

“Please, Daddy.” That was Harry’s kink, to begin with, but he sees how Louis’s dick twitches at the word and he grins up at him knowingly. “Please fuck my mouth.”

“They’re all going to know that’s what you were doing.” Louis’s thumb trails over Harry’s lower lip. Harry closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and parts his lips. “When they see how hard you are, with your red mouth and your wrecked voice. Is that what you want?”

“Please,” Harry mumbles without opening his eyes. A second later, Louis’s cock is at the corner of his mouth, tracing over the line of his lips as it hardens.

“Never knew you were _this_ much of an exhibitionist, love,” Louis says. The _daddy_ has gone out of his voice a bit. He pulls his fully-hard cock away from Harry’s mouth.

Harry opens his eyes and pouts at him. “The first time you saw me I was eating pussy.”

Louis shrugs a little, and jerks his cock a few times inches from Harry’s face. “You really want it?”

“ _Daddy,”_ Harry says, slightly scolding. “Yes.” He turns out his lower lip to pout some more, then almost chokes when Louis thrusts forward into his mouth suddenly. He unclasps his hands to steady himself against Louis’s thighs, and Louis doesn’t scold him. If anything, he uses it as an excuse to fuck into Harry’s throat even more roughly than usual, so that Harry is tearing up and gagging and grasping Louis’s thighs tightly but not once thinking of tapping out.

Louis comes in his mouth with a groan that might be loud enough to hear from outside. Harry’s fully hard by now and practically sweating with the effort not to swallow down Louis’s come greedily. Louis drags Harry up from his knees and stares at him in something like amazement for a moment. Then Louis kisses him, but it’s not enough. Louis sucks his own come out of Harry’s mouth and his tongue presses hard and wet and perfect against Harry’s but it’s not enough because he passes the come back into Harry’s mouth and then just gives him a cheeky wink before heading out of the loo. Harry’s so hard he’s worried he’ll pass out or come just from the feeling of his trousers against him, but all he wants is to drag Louis back in here and snog him for hours. When he goes back out to the reception, Louis is dancing and laughing with Gemma. Louis is fitting more seamlessly into every part of Harry’s life than anyone has a real right to, but it still isn’t enough.

###

_H: can we plaaaaaaay_

_L: checkers or chess_

_H: :((((_

_L: we’re meeting friday right?_

_H: yeah but I want it SOONER_

_H: haven’t been tied up in dAYS_

_H: can’t concentrate on anything I need it_

_L: maybe it’s good for you to get off on a nice vanilla wank every now and then_

_H: :(( you’re the worst daddy no one else ever tells me I want to play too much_

_L: come over tonight_

_H: :)))))_

_L: NO MARKS when you’ve got college in the morning but I’ve been reading up on that ginger thing_

_H: *___*_

_L: 8 xx_

###

“I’ve _got_ to get him to fuck me, Niall.”

Niall doesn’t look away from the video game, but he frowns a little. “Louis, you mean?”

Harry nods sullenly. He drops his controller and covers his face with his hands. “If he doesn’t put it in me soon I’m going to chop off his dick and run off with it myself.”

Niall once admitted to Harry that he kept playing FIFA while he was getting a blowjob once, but now he actually pauses the game. “The guy you _took to your mother’s wedding_?” he says, his eyebrows raised so far they might fall off his face. “You haven’t done the do with him yet? Weren’t you just sending him a dick pic like twenty minutes ago?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. He hadn’t been hard when Louis had messaged him asking him for one half an hour ago, but now he’s so turned on he feels like crawling out of his skin. There used to be a lot of ways he could take care of that, but Harry’s really only interested in the one he can’t have. “I fucked up, though. I told him I wasn’t interested in casual fucking.”

“Just some casual whipping.” Niall is usually unshakeable. Right now, he sounds a little hysterical.

“Exactly.” Harry hugs his knees to his chest sullenly.

“You realize that’s _mad_?”

“’S not.” Harry’s boner rubs up against his stomach but it doesn’t even feel a little bit good, because there’s nothing _Louis_ about it. “It means something different, to me.”

“Something you want with Louis.” Harry nods. “So why don’t you bloody _go for it_?” Niall speaks as if to a child. Harry just sighs and rests his head against his knees. “Don’t even _think_ of telling me he doesn’t like you too, I _saw_ your wallpaper. It’s him _playing with your hair_.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry says into his knees. It isn’t. “I had a vibrator in my arse at the time. He’s a really good dom, Niall.”

Niall rubs his temples for a minute before responding. “Why don’t you just talk to him about it? Aren’t you all about the communication thing?”

“Yeah, but if I tell him how I feel he’s _never_ going to fuck me.” Harry pounds his forehead against his knees a few times.

“How do you figure that, exactly?”

“You don’t know him, he’s all… responsible, noble.” Harry fucking loves that about him. He groans. “He’d think he was taking advantage of me or something.”

“Or he could be in love with you, too.”

An alarm on Harry’s phone buzzes. _Meet Louis_ , it says, followed by three heart emojis. Like he would ever forget. Harry sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket without letting himself stare at the photo of him and Louis at the wedding again. “Don’t even say that, Niall. You’ll put ideas in my head.”

“Knowing you, those ideas are already there.”

Harry doesn’t reply. Maybe if he just ceases to acknowledge the existence of the word _love_ , Louis will forget that he doesn’t love Harry, or at least that that _matters_ to Harry, and finally just put his cock in his arse.

“I’ve got to go meet him now.” Harry gets up. “Wish me anal.”

“Harry,” Niall says, a little sadly, shaking his head as he picks up the console again. “I wish you all the bumfuckery in the world.”

###

Harry knocks on Louis’s door with such a single-minded desire to get Louis to fuck him that he’s surprised to see Louis wearing clothes. Louis answers the door in trackies and an oversized tee. Which Harry would totally let Louis fuck him in—it looks like hasn’t shaved, either, so he’s looking particularly rugged and masculine—only he looks distracted, which is not an ideal way for Operation Bumfuckery to commence.

“Hey, come in.” Louis gestures inside without quite meeting Harry’s eye. There’s somebody Harry doesn’t know sitting on the couch. Suddenly, Harry is very glad that Louis’s wearing clothes.

“Hi.” Harry frowns at the guy sitting on the couch. He’s always known, objectively, that Louis has a whole life that doesn’t revolve around being Harry’s daddy, but he’s still not sure he likes being reminded of the parts of Louis he’s not allowed to have.

“This is Zayn.” Louis places his hand on Harry’s elbow and Harry’s disappointment melts a little. God, he’s pathetic. “Zayn, Harry.”

“We’ve met.” Zayn nods towards Harry. Harry frowns. “Well, not really, but I’ve seen you with come on your face, so.”

Harry can see why he and Louis are friends. “Cheers, mate.” Louis never mentioned Zayn was the second most gorgeous person on the planet. Harry wonders if that means anything, but it’s _him_ that Louis is leading into his room with a hand on the small of his back, so.

“Yeah, so, change of plans.” Louis looks over his shoulder out to where Zayn is curled up under a blanket on the couch. “Zayn’s not feeling very well so I can’t kick him out.”

Harry frowns. “I can be quiet, though.”

“You’re not fucking while I’m in the flat,” Zayn says loudly. “Absolutely not.”

Harry doesn’t particularly mind being overheard. That’s not the reason he pouts. Louis rolls his eyes over his shoulder and hugs Harry around the middle, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “I know you can, baby,” he says. A chill follows Louis’s fingers tracing down Harry’s spine. “But… I just can’t, tonight.”

“All right.” Harry sighs. “I’ll… go, then.” He doesn’t move a muscle, as long as Louis’s touching him.

“No, no, stay.” Louis’s hand stills just above the swell of Harry’s bum. “I mean… we didn’t really get a chance to. Debrief. After Saturday. And it was pretty intense.”

“Yeah.” _Intense_ is one word to describe how Louis blindfolded Harry and bound his wrists with their ties in his _car_ , while he was _driving_. “I’m all right, though, honest. I’d tell you if I weren’t.” Harry puts a tentative hand on Louis’s waist.

Louis backs up a little, chewing on his lip. “I believe you,” he says, after a minute.

“I really just wanted to play again.” _I really just want to convince you to fuck me_ , is what Harry means. He scratches the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. “I’m itching for it, you know?”

Louis hums. “Okay.” He picks up Harry’s hand for a moment before dropping it, and backing up against the wall of his room. “I just. I think _I_ need some down time, all right?” He smiles, a little nervously. “I didn’t get enough of a chance to make sure you were all right.”

 _God_ , he’s such a responsible dom. It makes Harry’s arse clench. “I’m all right.”

Louis grins and gestures back towards the living room with his head. “So cuddle with me and watch bad telly.”

It might be a setback as far as Operation Bumfuckery is concerned, but as far as everything else goes… Harry doesn’t call it love, what he feels while tucked under Louis’s arm sneering at the fashion choices of this year’s X Factor contestants with Louis’s best friend in the world, because that would be an even bigger setback to Operation Bumfuckery. He doesn’t call it anything. He just lets himself enjoy it.

###

The first night, Louis thinks he does a pretty good job of convincing Harry he’s not dragged him to his flat to explicitly to keep him from going to the club to play with somebody else. Every subsequent time he drags Harry over when he whines about wanting to play, though, it gets harder to use aftercare as an excuse to spend another whole evening cuddling Harry on his couch.

“You keep dragging me over here with the promise of ginger root in my arse,” Harry says the third time he comes over that week. He sounds exasperated, but not quite angry, when he finds Louis already on the phone with a Chinese takeout place. “Then when I get here all you want is to feed me. If this is a fetish for you, we should really talk about it.”

“Does that mean you want the ginger chicken?” Louis asks. He tries not to look too obviously pleased, but Harry’s _adorable_ when he pouts. And when he hits Louis over the head with a takeout menu, too.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t want to play. He pretty much _always_ wants to play with Harry. Or, at least, he pretty much always wants Harry’s mouth on his dick, and playing is the only way to make that happen. But. Since the wedding, Louis’s come to the conclusion that that’s not a particularly healthy way of dealing with his feelings. Standing by Harry’s side while they waded through crowds of his family, holding his hand and posing for couple’s shots with him, making sure he drank enough tea after fucking his throat in the bathroom—it had been _so_ close to everything Louis wanted with Harry (to everything he wanted, _period_ ) that it made it hard for him to look Harry in the eye, afterwards. Enjoying it as much as he did made Louis feel like he was taking something from Harry without his permission—and without Harry’s permission, without his _enthusiasm_ , Louis isn’t anything but the worst kind of pervert. Seeing Harry soft and smiling against his side while they watch reruns of the X Factor is the only way Louis knows to tamp down the panic that thought inspires.

It’s probably not very healthy for him to keep buying Harry takeout to make sure he doesn’t go to the club and play with anyone else, either, but the alternatives are a) risking Harry going to the club and playing with someone else, or b) telling Harry why he can’t bear the thought of him going to the club and playing with someone else. Both of those options would probably give Louis an ulcer, so his increased sodium intake is probably the best possible outcome for everyone’s health.

They play on Friday, though, like normal. Louis’s conscience isn’t tortured enough to stop him from craving playtime with Harry like a drug, and Harry’s gagging for it so hard by then that he’s on his knees nuzzling Louis’s cock through his jeans before Louis’s even closed the door. Louis gives it to him hard with the paddle, spanking Harry through his favorite pink panties until he’s crying in Louis’s lap, his vocabulary narrowing to _yes_ and to _Daddy_ and eventually _please, please, please._ It’s intense—it’s always intense—but it’s also familiar, in a way that makes Louis feel full and empty at the same time. He draws Harry a bath afterwards, sits behind him and washes his hair while Harry keeps floating in his headspace. Louis’s exhausted to his core but he doesn’t fall asleep until Harry’s recovered enough to joke that if Louis makes him wait that long again, Harry’s going to have to take the paddle into his own hands. They fall asleep as tangled up in each other as ever.

The next Tuesday—the fifth time in two weeks that Louis invites Harry over only to settle on the couch and cuddle with him, with all his clothes on—is the time Harry decides he’s had enough. After they’ve had their fill of ginger chicken, Harry gets down on his knees and clasps his hands behind his back, staring up at Louis petulantly from between his legs. He sits there for several minutes while Louis ignores him, flipping through the channels on the telly, until Louis catches his eye and sighs.

“If you want to blow me, I’m not gonna stop you,” he says. “But that’s as much daddy as you’re getting today.”

Harry frowns. “Daddy’s being mean today,” he says to Louis’s dick, almost conversationally. He mouths at Louis through his boxers for a few minutes, humming in satisfaction as Louis grows hard under him. His eyelashes keep fluttering as he tries to get Louis’s cock out of his boxers without taking his hands out from behind his back.

Louis’s impossibly endeared. He considers going back on his word, egging Harry on a bit, but he’s worried if he opens his mouth he might say something he’ll regret. After a few minutes of Harry staring up at him while mouthing at his cock, Harry lets out a grunt of frustration and just takes Louis’s dick out with his hands.

Harry gives Louis a long, leisurely blowjob, jerking him with one hand and teasing around his head with his mouth. Louis’s had his cock in Harry’s mouth so many times by now that he’s shocked by how different it feels, letting Harry take him at his own pace. He’s certain Harry would respond enthusiastically if he suddenly thrust his hips up, burrowing his cock in Harry’s throat, but as much as he itches for that, always, he’s much more fascinated by the quiet, insistent way Harry works over him with his lips—not as if he’s desperate for it, like usual, but as if he’s _comforted_ by it. Harry jerks himself off in time with the bobbing of his head over Louis’s cock and comes into his own hand without so much as a _good boy_ from Louis. Louis comes into Harry’s mouth without so much as a _please, Daddy_ from Harry. Harry swallows and curls back up next to Louis like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Like Louis’s heart hasn’t leapt into his throat and isn’t threatening to suffocate him.

It’s one thing to dom the living hell out of Harry. It’s another to love Harry, and another to be his friend. Louis’s been operating under the assumption that he can only have those things if he keeps them all separate, and he thinks he’s done a pretty good job, under the circumstances. But if the circumstances are changing to include weekends with his family and tender blowjobs with no expectation of reciprocation of any kind—if there’s even a _chance_ that Harry wants to blow him not just because he’s his dom, but because he’s his _Louis_ —fuck, Louis _has_ to try for it, no matter how much he has to lose.

###

Harry doesn’t stop coming over to Louis’s even after he discovers Louis doesn’t actually even know what ginger root looks like. Operation Bumfuckery is still in progress, and every moment he spends in Louis’s presence could be the moment it enters the critical stage. (The moments where Louis isn’t fucking him aren’t too bad, either. It isn’t love, he keeps insisting to Niall, even while he fights the butterflies in his stomach when Louis sends him a selfie of himself looking bored in drama class, just because. He’ll call what they have anything Louis wants to call it, if only Louis will fuck him through it.)

_L: do you have plans saturday?_

Harry types _trying to walk after you fuck me into next week_ , then deletes it.

_H: getting my voice back maybe? ha_

_L: sorry, have a thing friday_

For a full minute, Harry goes into a blind panic. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Louis’s been cuddling him because he no longer wants to play at all—it’s just, they’re _so fucking good_ together, and they’re only getting better all the time. At least that’s what Harry thought. Maybe he’s been so absorbed in calling the thing he has with Louis anything but love that he hasn’t even noticed Louis lose interest in him. _Fuck_. He’s already shaking and online shopping for new lingerie when Louis’s next text comes through.

_L: come over saturday noon instead? I promise we can play_

Harry collapses back on his bed and stares at his ceiling for a minute. He doesn’t close the online shopping windows while he answers.

_H: sure np_

_H: hot date?_

Harry doesn't add an emoji, and hopes that doesn't mean Louis can see write through his panic.

Louis doesn’t answer for five minutes. Harry’s already ordered two new thongs by the time he does.

_L: no, helping Z with a thing_

_L: have sthng a little intense for sat… maybe don’t go to the club?_

Harry didn’t even think of going to the club. He hasn’t been to the club in ages. Lou’s sent him half a dozen _we miss you_ _xxxx_ messages since he stopped coming with Louis. Why would Louis even ask him that? Harry rummages in his sock drawer for Dorcas, then takes a photo with the vibrator cradled against his cheek.

_H: my hot date, dorcas_

_L: you’re a dorcas. 12 saturday xx_

###

Louis’s phone buzzes several times Friday evening while he’s trying to get the smoke detector to turn off. It says a lot about him that his ear can pick out Harry’s ringtone over the electronic screech telling him to run for his life. He doesn’t warn Zayn not to check his phone, figuring he probably can’t even hear it.

Zayn’s survival instincts are against him, though. When Louis comes back into the smokey kitchen, ears still ringing but smoke detector battery gripped triumphantly in hand, Zayn holds Louis’s phone out to him and looks away.

“You got a text.”

Louis looks down at his phone and grins. He’d recognize that arse anywhere. Harry’s sent him a photo of himself bent over the side of his bed with the handle of his vibrator sticking out of him.

_H: miss you daddy x_

“Are you sure you’re not dating him already?” Zayn sounds a little anguished as he peeks out from behind his hands and catches Louis’s grin. “Even back when you were a coy kitten bottom, I’d never think you’d let a cute little arse like that slip away.”

_L: zayn says your arse is cute xx_

“I was never a coy kitten bottom,” Louis says. A few months ago, he might have been defensive about it, but now he just sighs. “I haven’t even fucked him.” He runs his thumb over the photo, where Harry’s rim is stretched around his toy.

“Are you serious?” Zayn drops his hands from his face, sounding mostly curious now. “What, is he saving himself for marriage?”

“Yeah, you can see he’s clearly into the blushing virgin thing.” Louis waves the photo in Zayn’s direction again and Zayn winces. “It’s a boundary for him. He doesn’t want to get fucked by somebody who doesn’t love him.”

“Pretty sure he wants to get fucked by you, if he’s sending you messages like that.”

Louis’s phone pings again.

_H: what do you say about my arse daddy? xxx_

Louis doesn’t hesitate before typing out his reply.

_L: perfect baby xxxxx_

“We’ll see.” He places his phone down on the counter with the photo still up. “Now. Explain the mashing part again.”

Louis’s ears don’t stop ringing for a while, but at least he’s been reminded what he’s doing this for.

###

“Hi, darling.” Louis answers the door on Saturday wearing one of his hungry, mildly condescending smiles that makes Harry shiver. He runs his eyes over Harry’s body, then says, “I’ve got some things to do—“

“ _Louis_.” Harry groans, puts his face in his hands, and leans against the doorframe, shaking his head. “I swear to _god_ , if you don’t tie me up, I’m going to start thinking you care about more than fucking my mouth.”

Louis raises his eyebrow. “If I’d known you were going to bring that attitude, I’d have borrowed the paddle from Cazza.”

There’s an edge to Louis’s voice that Harry hasn’t heard in what feels like _far_ too long. His shoulders sink a little, but he smiles widely. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Louis pulls Harry into his flat and laces a hand through Harry’s hair. “As I was saying.” He tugs on Harry’s hair a little too hard to be playful, and Harry hums happily, keeping his eyes downcast. “I have some things to do, so if I tie you up, I’m just going to have to leave you like that for a bit while I go about my business. Is that all right with you?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Harry says quickly. Louis tugs on his hair sharply. Harry corrects himself. “I—yes, Daddy.”

“Good.” Louis’s hand swirls around one of the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Think you can be very still while Daddy’s busy?” Louis traces the line of Harry’s jaw with the back of his hand. Harry nods, his eyes cast down to where Louis’s cock is tenting his trackies. “Stand around and look pretty for me?”

Harry nods quickly. He’s pretty sure he wants to be literally everything to Louis. But if all Louis wants is for him to just stand there and look pretty, Harry can do that.

Louis undresses Harry slowly, not letting Harry help. Louis isn’t rough with him, but the way he moves Harry around like a rag doll, like a pretty thing that’s just his, makes Harry start floating even before Louis pulls out the rope. When he puts Harry on his knees and binds his thighs to his calves, and his wrists to his ankles, the tension in his muscles makes it harder for Harry to move so easily with Louis’s every move, but Louis doesn’t snap at him when he jerks a little while Louis fingers him open and pushes a thick, vibrating plug inside him.

“So hard already,” Louis coos. He gives Harry’s cock a few strokes before pulling away again. “You like being good for Daddy?”

“Yes,” Harry says, in his smallest voice. He shuffles his knees while Louis bends down and plants a teasing kiss to the head of his cock. “Missed you, Daddy.”

Louis’s face softens for a moment. “I missed you too, baby.” He covers Harry’s eyes with the blindfold. “Now, are you gonna stay here and keep still and pretty for me?” Harry nods. Louis switches on the plug. “Good,” he says quietly while Harry’s whole body tenses with the intensity of the vibrations. Harry tries his very best not to move, even as Louis places a soft kiss on his cheek and walks away.

Harry’s not sure how long Louis keeps him there. After a few minutes of the constant stimulation of the plug, he enters a hazy state where time doesn’t seem to pass. Even as his muscles tremble sporadically with the effort of maintaining his position—even as he aches to move them, or better yet, to have Louis soothe over them—he’s not really counting down the moments until it’s over. Louis asked this of him, and the fact that he can do it feels like a gift—from him to Louis, or Louis to him, it doesn’t matter. No matter how much the not-quite-enough-ness of the vibrator makes his arse clench and his dick throb with arousal, he’ll probably wait forever, for Louis, honestly.

###

Louis only plans to keep Harry tied up for half an hour or so, but in spite of Zayn’s careful instruction, everything in the kitchen takes at least three times longer than it should. The chicken just doesn’t seem to be _cooking_ , and the ham falls off every time Louis pokes at his delicate creation in the pan. He curses silently under his breath and hopes Harry’s too far away (or too far out of it) to hear him.

(The fact that he keeps leaving the kitchen to check on Harry might also have something to do with it. Harry’s never out of his sight longer than it takes for Louis to duck his head into the fridge, but every few minutes he still goes over to him to check on him. Harry doesn’t seem to notice him, and Louis doesn’t say anything to him, just admires him quietly before heading back into the kitchen. There’s a chance he might not get this again, he knows.)

In the end, it’s an hour and fifteen minutes before the table is set, purple tablecloth covering over the stains in the wood, candles lit, and two full dishes set out.

Louis had grand plans for how he was going to get Harry off at the end of all of this, but by the time the stove is turned off, he’s exhausted. All he wants is for his boy to come, then come and eat. (And, you know, maybe tell Louis he’s in love with him, too.) If things go well, they’ll have plenty of time for grand plans later. If things don’t go well… Louis will probably have bigger regrets than how the last time they get off together was just Louis’s hands bringing them both off while he knelt with his forehead pressed to Harry’s.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles as Louis feeds him their come from his hand. “Thank you,” he says again while Louis undoes the rope. “Thank you,” when Louis pulls out the plug. “Thank you,” when Louis takes off the blindfold and kisses Harry on the forehead.

Louis doesn’t say it back. He doesn’t say anything—at least, not out loud. Harry’s into gratitude, as a kink thing, but it feels obscene for Louis to just _thank_ Harry, for turning himself into a trembling mess on Louis’s living room floor, just so Louis can put him back together. Words just aren’t good enough. After a few minutes, once Harry looks less like he’ll topple over sitting down, Louis helps him to his feet and leads him to the kitchen.

Harry stops in his tracks when he sees the table.

“What—?” Harry rubs his eyes, like he’s not sure what he’s seeing. “What is all this?”

“Chicken,” Louis says simply. Harry turns and blinks at him. Louis swallows. “Wrapped in parma ham, stuffed with mozzarella, with a side of homemade mash.” It sounds ridiculous, when he says it out loud. He laughs a little, scratching the back of his head. “I bought the cheesecake, just in case the rest of it is shit.”

That’s the entirety of his love declaration, apparently. Storebought cheesecake and slightly burnt chicken. Harry’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head.

“Is this—“ Harry waves his hand at the table. “This is what you were doing? While I was—?”

“Yeah.” Louis shrugs and leans back against the kitchen counter. _I wanted to show you I appreciate you_ , he could say. _I wanted to thank you._ Or, _I’ve been in love with you since I met you in that bathroom_.He’s always been better with actions than words, though.

“You can’t—“ Harry puts his face in his hands and groans loudly. “People— _doms_ don’t just _do_ this for their subs, Louis, it’s—“

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis says wearily. Harry looks at him like he’s more anguished by the sight of the kitchen table than he was by being bound up and teased for over an hour. “You’re _obviously_ more than a sub to me.”

Harry takes a step away from the kitchen table, towards Louis, then pauses, like he’s worried Louis will turn away. Louis doesn’t.

Harry puts his his hands on Louis’s cheeks and rests his forehead against Louis’s. “ _Please_ fuck me,” Harry says, a little too loudly for how close they are. He laughs like it pains him. “Please. I’m so in love with you, just… please.”

There are at least twenty things Louis should say instead of grabbing Harry roughly by the hair and tugging him in for a proper kiss. _I’m in love with you too_ , he should say instead of pulling Harry into his bedroom. _We literally just came_ , he should say instead of shoving Harry’s boxers down again. _Maybe we should talk about this_ , he should say instead of digging through his bedside table for a condom while Harry tugs himself back to hardness frantically.

The thing is though, they’ve _already_ talked about it. They’ve talked about _everything_. Louis knows when the last time Harry took a shit was, for God’s sake. The only thing they haven’t said, through all the noise, is _this_ , and they’re saying it now, with their teeth clashing and tongues swirling and hands groping over every part of each other. Harry pulls Louis down on top of him so hard their foreheads knock together, and both of them laugh a little, but then Louis’s tucking a finger inside Harry—just to check that he is, in fact, still wet and open, that none of this is actually a dream—and Harry throws his head back against the pillow.

“Please,” Harry gasps, “please, wanted you _so long, Louis_ , come on—“

“I’m in love with you, too,” Louis says as he slicks up his cock. “By the way.”

“ _Lou_.” Harry moans as Louis ( _finally_ ) lines up with his entrance. His legs are hitched up to his chest, and he looks so _gone_ for it already, gone for _Louis_ , and that’s almost as good as the feeling of Louis’s cock sliding into Harry’s arse at _last_.

 _Almost_ as good.

Harry’s choking on air, fingers digging into his own thighs hard enough to leave marks. “Daddy,” he whimpers, when the head of Louis’s cock is seated inside him. Harry’s so hot around him Louis feels like he’s on _fire_ , and he sinks in the rest of the way probably too quickly, given that this is Harry’s first time, but… _Daddy, Lou, fuck_ , Harry shouts as Louis fucks him hard and fast. Their hands slide into one another and it feels nothing at all like a first time. It feels like coming home.

Afterwards, Louis feels as high as Harry usually looks after a scene. Everything, from pulling out of Harry to tying off the condom to collapsing by his side, makes him feel giddy and giggly and _good_. “Hiiiii,” he says, in Harry’s trademark style. Harry giggles, but his whole body doesn’t shake with it. For once, he seems slightly more in control of himself than Louis. Louis buries his foolish smile in Harry’s chest, drapes himself on top of him, and pulls Harry’s arms around him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Idiot.” Louis tugs at Harry’s nipple piercing between his teeth and Harry’s arms tighten around him.

“Oops.” Louis looks up and sees Harry smiling. He doesn’t hesitate, this time, to stick his thumb in his dimple (which, because he’s an idiot, makes Harry smile even wider). “Guess you’ll have to punish me.”

Louis figures subjecting Harry to his cooking (after it’s been sitting out for almost an hour) is punishment enough, but Harry disagrees, so Louis punishes him for the rest of the night. And most of Sunday too. They both have a lot to make up for. Ten spanks for every text Harry’s sent that didn’t say _I love you_ is a good a place as any to start.

###

When Louis tells Zayn that he’s going back to the sex club for the first time with Harry as his official boyfriend, Zayn is actually surprised.

“What have I _ever_ done,” Louis says, gesturing with a chip in his hand, “to make you think I wouldn’t take my boyfriend to a sex club?”

Zayn snorts. “Didn’t think you’d be much into sharing him, now that you’ve finally bagged him.”

“It’s more about showing him off.” Louis shrugs and pushes his plate of chips towards Zayn. “You interested in a front-row seat?”

Zayn doesn’t shake his head no as quickly as Louis thinks he will. He files that away for future reference. “You’re both nutters,” Zayn says, pushing the plate of chips back to Louis. “Glad you’ve finally got your heads out of your arses, then.”

Louis hums happily. “Next step is to get our heads into each other’s arses.”

Zayn makes a disgusted face. Louis’s phone lights up with a text from Harry.

_H: mum and I are outsiiide, are you coming??_

_L: tell her daddy will be right there xx_

“Flat’s yours tonight, Z.” Louis throws down a few quid on the table and gives Zayn a dramatic smooch on the forehead before getting out of the booth. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Not an issue,” Zayn mumbles, “ _trust_ me.”

Louis hops into the backseat of Harry’s mother’s van with a triumphant grin when he sees how flustered Harry is. “Hullo, Anne, lovely to see you again,” he says cheerily. Harry gapes at him and covers his red face with one of his huge hands. Like the audacious dom he is, Louis meets Harry’s embarrassment with a chaste kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> sry mom it's ren's fault
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://socomicallygay.tumblr.com/)


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